


Four Experiments

by sanddrake



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cuckolding, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gags, Humiliation, Impotence, M/M, Mild Gore, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Psychological Trauma, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22339837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanddrake/pseuds/sanddrake
Summary: Frustrated by the whims of the council, his foolish research assistants, and a craving which he is unable to put into words, Lucilius conducts several experiments in search of an answer which will satisfy him.  Each experiment exposes a different facet of his needs and his relationship with his creations and those around him.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	1. My Most Perfect Creation

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly about the sex. Each chapter (aside from the epilogue) is a sex scene between Lucilius and one of the other tagged characters, and with each character Lucilius has a very different experience. If you have strong squicks, you may want to look elsewhere. This was written before WMTSB3, so Belial's origins and several aspects of Bubs' personality had not been revealed and differ from canon.

The gentle rap on the door to Lucilius’ private chambers caught him when he was in the middle of reviewing research reports at his desk. As usual, the reports from his subordinates were devoid of any sign of insight or even more than the faintest scraps of intelligence, an absolute waste of his time. The insistence of the council that he attempt to guide these idiots instead of using them as he saw fit rankled his sense of efficiency. With a faint sigh, he tapped the sides of the stack to even out the edges and set them to the side, next to the lamp. He preferred to keep his workspace tidy at all times, as it allowed him to pick up the next task without distraction. If this was who he thought, however — his gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, which showed that his expected visitor was precisely on time, as usual — then he wouldn’t be using the desk. “Come in,” Lucilius said.

The latch of the door clicked as it opened, and Lucilius turned in his chair to face the door as Lucifer entered. The angel was impeccable as usual, his chest plate glowing in the warm lamp light of the room, and the gentle lines of his face softened even further by the shadows which edged them. Lucilius preferred an almost twilight level of lighting in his own space, as well as a spartan level of furniture and decoration. Everything was either black or white, and of the highest quality. He detested the idea of replacing things which had broken. There were no windows in his room and nothing outside of his control. He knew that Lucifer found it slightly discomfiting, as the angel preferred bright sunlight and fresh air. It was one of the myriad differences between their personalities, and Lucilius had spent years trying to determine where those differences had come from. They had not been an intentional part of the angel’s design. It ate at his pride as a creator, but he carefully hid that note of bitterness as he gave his creation a reserved smile. “Thank you for joining me on such short notice.”

“Of course, my friend,” Lucifer said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Lucilius shrugged, strictly controlling his voice as he replied, “The council requires me to give regular reports on the progress of my experiments, as you know.”

“I thought that the reports were monthly. Did you not just perform an examination last week…?”

Perhaps it was part of his purpose, or perhaps just part of his personality, but the angel seemed incapable of simply accepting things as they were, always insisting on following any inconsistency or error to its source. While this was one of the few places they resembled each other, from Lucilius’ perspective, it was quite possibly the angel’s most irritating trait. He tried not to show that irritation as he pushed back the chair and stood up. “The council is quite interested in this project. We will need to do these more frequently to satisfy them.” The excuse had the benefit of being close to the truth. The research council seemed bent and determined to make Lucilius justify every expenditure and support every experiment with an ironclad cost-benefit analysis, and the reports he was required to write on most of his experiments were both extensive and frequently. However, they had long since recognized the benefits of Lucifer, and they were hardly interested in continuing reports on his progress; Lucifer’s maintenance schedule was entirely for Lucilius’ benefit, not the council’s.

“I suppose we have no choice, then.” Lucifer said. His chin dropped slightly, the only sign of his reluctance. “Shall we proceed as usual?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

Lucifer shook his head, his blue eyes guileless. “It is necessary.”

_Perhaps not in the sense you mean_ , Lucilius thought, but said nothing as Lucifer began to disrobe. The angel was unselfconscious about nudity — what he disliked was what was to come afterward — but there was a grace and a delicacy in his motions which Lucilius could only envy. Lucifer had, of course, been outfitted with exceptional combat abilities. While his purpose did not strictly require such features, few primal beasts lacked them, and with those talents came a high degree of physical competence. As a researcher, Lucilius spent most of his time in study or experimentation, and while his dexterity in handling research instruments and building primal beasts was respected by his subordinates, in any other sort of physical test he was only average at best. Lucilius exercised regularly in pursuit of efficiency, as a fit body supported a fit mind, but that was as far as it went. However, he could, and did, take pride in the performance of his creation. The play of the muscles underneath the skin, the lines of the tendons as they stretched and contracted, the implied motion of the bones underneath and the countless interconnected systems which supported and maintained those functions. Lucilius understood and could appreciate the perfection in every movement. His hands had built that. Every aspect of it was due to his work. And Lucifer was exquisite.

When Lucifer was finished undressing, he went over to the bed and lay down face down. He didn’t bother with the pillow, turning his head to face away from Lucilius and resting his cheek directly on the sheets. His arms he let rest above his head, forming a loose circle with his hands folded one atop the other. After he was settled, he manifested his six wings, letting them drape across the mattress, the tips spilling off the edge and brushing the floor.

Lucifer didn’t even move as Lucilius approached. Sliding onto the bed next to the angel, Lucilius extended a hand towards Lucifer’s wings before stopping himself short, his fingertips barely an inch above the glorious feathers. That would come afterward. What Lucifer expected was business. He mustn’t get ahead of himself.

Instead, he rested his hand on Lucifer’s back, just below the shoulder blades, where the wings joined with the main body. The angel’s skin was smooth and warm on his palm, and he could feel the faintest hint of a tremor in Lucifer as he prepared for what was to come. Lucifer truly disliked these examinations. All of the angels did, actually, though at least Lucifer was obedient enough to not offer more than a token protest. Remembering his experiences with some of the others gave Lucilius a faint headache as his temples knotted up. With a sigh, he focused his will and pushed his fingers into Lucifer’s back, reaching past the physical form and cradling his hand around the angel’s core.

Lucifer’s breathing grew labored, and he trembled. His face was cloaked in shadow, but Lucilius could pick out the clenched jaw and the edge of one eye, tightly closed. The core pulsed gently against Lucilius’ fingers, a beating heart that slowly sped up as the angel’s mind communicated its distress. The sensation that he could close his fingers around it and just rip it out was sublime. Doing so wouldn’t kill Lucifer, but the pain he would experience would drive him out of his senses, and it would take him a very long time to recover.

“Is there… anything wrong…?” Lucifer asked with effort.

The words drew Lucilius back to himself. “No,” he replied absently. “There is a slight anomaly, however. It is likely nothing, but I will need to put you into analysis mode.”

“I… understand.”

Securing Lucifer’s consent was not necessary, but establishing a plausible reason for the missing time was essential. Lucilius exerted his will against the core. _Authorization: Creator. Establish new memory store Beta. Designate Beta as primary memory store._

Lucifer stiffened, his arms curling tightly around his head. “Something is wrong…”

Lucilius smiled. Lucifer would remember nothing of what he did after the memory store switch, and it was impossible for him to fight while Lucilius had a hand on his core. Submitting to the urge he’d had before, Lucilius tugged the core slightly out of Lucifer’s back. The angel’s wings shimmered slightly as the connection to their power source wavered, and Lucifer’s entire body went rigid as his strangled yell echoed through the room. _Establish standard power limiter_ , Lucilius whispered to the core, and he felt the core acknowledge and accept his order. Lucifer was panting, his fingers digging into the mattress. Lucilius watched his creation writhe for several seconds before he let the core slip out of his fingers. It sank beneath Lucifer’s skin, settling back where it belonged. Lucilius rested his hand flat on Lucifer’s back right over where the core lay, and was rewarded with a shudder as the angel felt the implicit threat behind it.

“Why, my friend?” Lucifer asked, his voice weak. He made no effort to sit up or struggle. Perhaps he still didn’t understand the situation he was in. Any resistance would be useless, of course, but the passivity drove Lucilius mad. He ran his hand up Lucifer’s spine and pressed down on the nape of Lucifer’s neck, letting his upper body weight rest on that one point of support. Lucifer grimaced, but still he made no move to fight back.

“Your gratitude is lacking,” Lucilius said, a hint of poison creeping into his tone. “You are mine, yet you think yourself equal to me. You’re nothing but my tool.”

“I exist to serve my purpose. My resolve has never wavered—”

Lucilius dug the fingers of his other hand into the joint where Lucifer’s wings met his back. It was a weakness, one he had struggled to eliminate from the design, but now one he relished exploiting. Lucifer’s back arched as he moaned in pain, but Lucilius’ hand at the base of his skull kept him from moving too far. He leaned in closer and said, “Your purpose is secondary. I didn’t design you to ignore me.”

“I… respect…” Lucifer’s voice was halting as he tried to speak the words around the agony he had to feel from his twisted wing.

“Do you think I don’t see how you subvert them? How my creations look upon you with adoration?” Lucilius’ jaw clenched as he remembered watching the conversations between Lucifer and the Primarchs, and between Lucifer and Sandalphon. That naked need with which the spare looked upon Lucifer was revolting in its intensity, all the more so given that they were two creatures who could never co-exist. Involving Lucifer in the spare’s creation had been a mistake. Far better if he’d crafted it himself and left it safely tucked away in storage in case it ever became necessary. He’d simply found the concept of a beast creating another beast a fascinating experiment… It was simply another way his curiosity had led him into error. Such errors were part of the process of research, but to be unable to undo this one rankled.

Even the other researchers seemed fixated on Lucifer. They marveled at the brilliance of his light, and ignored the man who had created the sun itself. Lucifer had been created in Lucilius’ image. The angel was nothing more than an extension of Lucilius’ will. Without Lucilius’ hand to guide him, he should be useless. The idea that the tool could outshine the craftsman was preposterous. Lucilius dug his fingers as deeply as he could into Lucifer’s wing joint, wringing out a short, sharp scream from the angel before he finally relented and let go. He sat back, letting Lucifer free with a shove against the back of his neck. And then he waited, watching Lucifer for his response.

With the power limiter, he needn’t fear Lucifer’s abilities. Even the angel’s physical capabilities would be severely reduced, otherwise he would have been able to throw Lucilius off, prone or not. Lucifer’s back rose and fell with his breathing, as the angel thought. Considered. Reasoned.

“If my conduct has offended you, I apologize,” Lucifer said finally. He brought his hands underneath him and began to push himself up. “Please tell me how I can—”

“Stay down,” Lucilius said.

Lucifer hesitated for a moment. Lucilius reached for him, prepared to grasp the core again, but the angel lowered himself down to the bed once more. Perhaps it had just been confusion, but there was also the thin possibility that the angel had considered defiance. There was no sign either way in Lucifer’s body as he lay there, offering nothing more than quiet, yielding patience. It was as if nothing which Lucilius had done to him had even had an effect. An unmovable, solemn mountain. And that was a form of defiance in and of itself.

Lucilius felt his emotions crystallize, as cold and hard as the ice in the frozen wastes. What he did now would have no effect on the Lucifer who would be left after he erased the memory store he’d created. This would not be education. All he could bring out of this was a resolve to monitor Lucifer more closely and to steer him in the proper direction with more delicate means. However, Lucifer deserved this punishment, even if he would neither understand nor remember it.

“Stay,” he repeated, and stood up from the bed. He undid his robe and let it fall to the floor, the metallic decorations clinking dully as they struck the rug. As he worked the catches on the bodysuit underneath, he watched Lucifer for any sign of a reaction. Not even a tremble now. It was possible that he had no idea of what was to come, but as the angel set to govern evolution, Lucilius doubted he could be so ignorant. However, beasts weren’t designed for procreation. Perhaps he was simply unable to arrive at the conclusion given the information he had available. He could be oddly innocent. However, as Lucilius returned to the bed and reached out his hand to stroke the feathers on one wing, he caught the faint tension in Lucifer’s muscles. His lips quirked in a smile. _Not as untouchable as you_ _’d have me believe._

The urge to dig his fingers into the wing and rip out a handful of feathers was almost overwhelming, but it would only create more work for him later. He had to be circumspect. Lucifer was valuable, nearly irreplaceable. With him already hooked into the world’s systems, if he were to go rogue it could have devastating effects on the Astrals’ comfort. Hiding what Lucilius did here was critical: if he did damage to Lucifer’s body, he would have to repair it before he returned Lucifer to his full functionality and erased the memories of what had happened. If he wanted to elicit a reaction out of his creation, it would have to be mild enough not to leave a mark, or purely mental.

Lucilius climbed up onto the bed and leaned forward, placing a little bit of weight on the wing underneath his hand, and placed his other hand on the small of Lucifer’s back, leaning forward. “Nothing to say?”

“Is there something you wish me to say?”

Neutral, deferential. Lucilius shook his head with a faint smile and levered himself over Lucifer to reach for the small table next to the bed. He fished around in the drawer for a moment before retrieving a tin about the size of his palm. For a moment he thought he caught Lucifer staring at him, but when he looked back, the angel’s eyes were closed. Twisting off the top of the tin, he dipped his fingers in the lubricant and rubbed it across his fingers. As he backed up, he deliberately pressed one knee between Lucifer’s legs, forcing them just slightly further apart. He settled down, straddling one of Lucifer’s legs, and Lucifer shifted slightly, as if just to make himself more comfortable. The feel of the angel’s soft skin against Lucilius’ testicles and penis made him shiver with anticipation.

Lucifer tensed as Lucilius parted the angel’s cheeks and lightly stroked his fingers across the edge of the anus, coating it with the lubricant. It was the most significant reaction he had managed to draw out so far, but it still wasn’t enough. So as he teased the perineum, he asked, “How is that little angel we made together doing?”

It was more a change in the air than a physical response, a sudden sense that Lucifer’s attention had fixed on him. Lucilius’ eyes narrowed as he realized he’d hit a weak point. The sharp, tense feeling in the air was such that if he didn’t have the limiter he would have been worried. He’d seen the two of them playing at tea in the garden together, and knew that Sandalphon held some amount of significance to his creation. Sandalphon was obviously besotted with Lucifer. But that Lucifer returned those feelings…

The emotions that rose in him were complicated. Having another means to control Lucifer might be valuable, but if the thought that all the beasts looked up to Lucifer instead of showing proper respect to their creator was irritating, the thought that Lucifer could hold another beast in higher regard than his creator was absolutely maddening. He held himself to rigid control, tracing the edges of the anus with the lubricant as he remarked, “He seems rather forlorn when you’re gone. Perhaps I should pay him a bit more attention.”

The atmosphere of the room suddenly darkened as Lucifer’s back went rigid. Lucilius smiled as the angel’s wings lifted slightly, their brilliance dulled with the suppression of Lucifer’s core. He could feel the rhythm of what Lucifer was about to say before he even opened his mouth.

“Don’t touch him—!”

The word ended on a gasp as Lucilius pushed the tip of his finger inside of Lucifer. The sphincter tightened around his knuckle, and he could feel the tremble through Lucifer’s body as he adapted to the foreign object. Lucilius left it there, letting the angel adapt as he stroked one cheek with a slippery thumb. It left a faint sheen on Lucifer’s skin. “That sounded rather like a demand. Do you think that you’re in a position to make demands of me?”

Over the next minute, Lucifer’s breathing, swift and strained, began to slow. But as soon as he relaxed, Lucilius pressed his advantage, thrusting the finger in another knuckle deep. Once again, Lucifer tensed, but this time he spoke, his voice rough. “What do you want?”

There it was. A true emotional response. The quiet anger hidden in those four words lit a fire in Lucilius’ chest. He leaned forward, sinking his finger to the hilt inside of Lucifer and twitching the tip to stroke the inside walls. Lucifer’s restraint was breaking now, as he shuddered at Lucilius’ touch. “Let go,” Lucilius said. “I want to see you weak.”

Lucifer clenched the hands above his head into fists. “And you’ll… leave Sandalphon alone?”

“What use do I have for him, if I have you?” Lucilius said. It was a careful non-answer, and he could tell by Lucifer’s silence that the angel had caught on to his deception. But what could Lucifer do? He had to understand the situation he was in. It was possible that at this point he had even realized that Lucilius had erased his memories in the past, and was planning to do so now. His best chance was to obey. If he couldn’t guarantee that Lucilius would abide by any terms that were set, then his only option was to try to secure Lucilius’ good graces. “Let go,” Lucilius said again.

He could see Lucifer’s reluctant assent in the way his fists unclenched and his wings drooped back to the floor. The taste of victory was sweet in Lucilius’ mouth, and he swallowed, savoring it. Finally, this was interesting. He pulled his finger out, then sat up and climbed over Lucifer’s leg, freeing it. “Get up on your knees — no, leave your arms above your head.”

It wasn’t quite as satisfying as the idea of controlling Lucifer completely with all his powers intact. He’d thought about that, too, but it was too risky. But oh, it felt so good to see his creation humbled. The curve of his spine, the way his chin curled slightly towards his shoulder. There was still a hint of tightness in his jaw, but that would surely ease. Lucilius ran a hand up the thigh and over the curve of the buttocks, resting it at the base of the spine. Lucifer’s faint tremble at his touch made Lucilius shiver with pleasure. This was what he’d imagined in bits and pieces every day since Lucifer had been crafted. Finally, finally, he’d have the satisfaction of having him. He stretched himself over Lucifer’s back, enjoying the sensation of pressing his chest and head deeper into the mattress, the faint groan as Lucifer had to support his weight, and reached his hand around Lucifer’s waist.

When he found what he was searching for, he recoiled in disgust. Soft and pliable. Lucifer was flaccid. Lucilius gritted his teeth and grabbed the pitiful thing, stroking it roughly with his thumb. But no matter how he toyed with it, it refused to harden. With a frustrated shove that drew another gasp from his creation, he sat back up. “I said, ‘let go,’” he snapped.

“I am not fighting you,” Lucifer said. “You are aware that I am unable to control my autonomous bodily functions.”

Lucilius knew that Lucifer was telling the truth. He’d created Lucifer — he knew his systems intimately. But this lack of reaction was unexpected. Was Lucifer impotent, then? Had Lucilius made some fundamental error in the creation of his perfect angel which had caused this defect? He chewed on his lower lip, feeling a sharp pain as he bit a little harder than he intended. So minuscule a fault. It would in no way impair Lucifer’s ability to perform his duties. But for Lucilius’ satisfaction, this was simply unbearable.

Just rutting with him, willing or not, was a possibility. And oh, in some ways it was very tempting. After all that buildup and planning, it was hard to give up on what he wanted. But he knew himself well enough to know it would be difficult, if not impossible. He could already feel his interest waning, a chill replacing the heat which had filled him so completely. He couldn’t possess Lucifer like that. It would be nothing more than masturbation with frills.

With a growl, he shoved Lucifer down into the mattress and plunged his hand into the space between Lucifer’s wings, grasping the core. There was no delicacy in how he grabbed it this time. Denied what he wanted, this bit of agony was all he was permitted to taste. Lucifer collapsed under him with a pained cry as Lucilius pulled the core halfway out of the angel’s back. He carefully judged the degree of displacement, moving it millimeter by millimeter until Lucifer was caught on the edge of a breathless scream. And then he leaned forward, planting his hand on the angel’s neck and bearing down with all of his weight as he brought his lips close to Lucifer’s ear.

“If you won’t satisfy me, I’ll have to play with your pet after all,” he whispered. 

Lucifer had to be nearly insensible with pain, but he was still conscious enough to hear and understand what Lucilius had said. His eyes widened slightly, the blue shaded with fear. Lucilius smiled, feeling like he’d won something despite the absolute disaster that this entire experiment had become. Counting out several slow breaths while Lucifer trembled underneath him, Lucilius let his creation savor what was going to happen because of his recalcitrance. And then, with a careless thought, he ordered the core into hibernation. Lucifer collapsed, going as still as death as his will was suspended until Lucilius decided to restart him.

Lucilius sighed as he stood up from the bed, absently stroking himself as he stared down at his flawed, perfect creation. He still had to clean Lucifer up and then erase the spare memory store, a waste of his precious time, but he’d soothe his own tension first. Lucifer could sleep until he was satisfied.


	2. Deeply Flawed

The westward garden in the research lab was small and remote, the fencing which enclosed it carefully hidden by the trees and bushes which had been nurtured into verdant growth for exactly that purpose. Lucifer had made it a personal project when he was new, having found the barren patch of grass when he was barely out of the egg and decided it was too sad to stand. Lucilius still didn’t entirely comprehend why the utilitarian space had bothered Lucifer so. It had chairs and a table, and you could sit there and enjoy the sunlight if you were so inclined. It looked out over the edge of the island, and it didn’t face any of the airship routes. The extensive growth was unnecessary either for sound-proofing or for hiding imperfect or unpleasant vistas. The effort required to create and maintain such a sheltered space was wasted. But as the angel of evolution, it had been a useful exercise for Lucifer to deepen his understanding of living creatures, and so Lucilius had let him follow his whim. It hadn’t gone smoothly at first. But Lucifer had persevered, and in the end, it had become his garden. Lucilius had visited it occasionally in the past, assessing his creation’s development, but most of the other researchers left it alone, and the angels didn’t go there unless they were looking for Lucifer. With one exception.

The spare sat quietly in one of the chairs, his hands folded in his lap and his head tilted back, staring at the sky and its deep shade of blue as the first hints of evening spread through the clouds. Longing was etched into every feature of his face. His reddish-brown eyes were empty, doll-like, as if waiting for a spirit to animate them. Lips parted, it seemed like he was just about to call out for something. But he was absolutely still, making not a single motion as Lucilius watched from the half-open door. If left there, Lucilius wondered, would the spare simply wait endlessly for Lucifer to return?

His lips twisted in disdain. He had been so worried about a defect in Lucifer, but he should have been far more concerned about the spare. Perhaps it had been inevitable that the thing had come out so twisted. As clever as he had thought the design was, it was clear that it had its flaws. It was, however, interesting that they had manifested in such an emotional way. If he hadn’t already moved on to other areas of research, he might have invested some time in analyzing exactly why the spare had developed such a peculiar fixation, but he thought he might have passed on the opportunity even if his time was endless. He found this sort of sentimentality distasteful, and the idea that it could have caused Lucifer’s reciprocal attachment even more so. Well, as much as the spare required less delicate handling than Lucifer, it was unwise to be careless. Lucilius brushed away his emotions, presenting a neutral expression as he entered the garden and closed the door behind him with a deliberate thump.

The spare actually jumped, then turned to the door with anticipation and hope. He was out of the chair and a couple of steps towards Lucilius before his expression transitioned to surprise, then disappointment, then… fear. How odd. They had barely exchanged more than a handful of words since the spare had been created, so it was unlikely to be personal animosity. It was possible that Lucifer had caught on to more than Lucilius suspected, but he found it difficult to imagine that Lucifer would have said anything to the spare. A warning would be useless if Lucilius came for him, and Lucifer knew that. Ignorance was the half-formed angel’s best defense.

The spare lowered his gaze. “I’m… sorry. No one ever comes here. I… I’ll get out of your way.”

“I actually came to see you, Sandalphon,” Lucilius said gently as he approached the table. It went against his instincts to offer kindness, but the spare seemed inclined to run off like a startled wind rabbit if he wasn’t careful. While that wouldn’t stop Lucilius, it would be inconvenient. And at least the creature showed proper deference to its betters.

“Me?” Sandalphon looked up, his eyes widened in surprise. Clearly he suspected that Lucilius had to have the wrong angel, but he was polite enough not to say it. “Did I do something wrong?”

Perhaps he should expend some effort on the spare, Lucilius thought. Given his new discoveries about Lucifer’s flaws, he might need to construct another at some point, and Sandalphon appeared even less stable than he had considered. He might be incapable of bearing Lucifer’s powers even on a temporary basis. “No, nothing of the sort. However, I realized I had been delegating all of your examinations to Lucifer.”

“He’s very diligent. He hasn’t missed a single month since I was created. Since he took over, I mean,” Sandalphon said, tripping over his words. He’d turned slightly away, crossing one arm over his stomach and gripping the elbow of his other arm defensively. An instinctual need to protect Lucifer and shield him from criticism. But also a certain nervousness, likely about the examination itself. Well, that was to be expected. Most of the angels found the examination process unpleasant. Sandalphon seemed to hesitate for a moment before adding, “He performed my last examination last week, just before he left on his latest mission.”

“I’m certain that he’s doing an exceptional job.” Lucilius had been reading his reports, after all, and they had seemed thorough. Though… this level of attachment. Lucilius considered it worthy of a mention. Was Lucifer simply unaware of it, or had he been deliberately hiding the depth of it? “But I have a duty to the council to make personal reports.”

Sandalphon swallowed. “I… understand.” He lifted his hands to the catches of his armor slowly, as if hoping Lucilius might tell him to stop before he had to go through with it. But as his fingers worked them and Lucilius showed no signs of giving him a reprieve, his shoulders dropped slightly and he began to move with a bit more haste. Hanging the armor on the chair, he then pulled the skintight black undershirt over his head and nervously folded it before placing it on the seat. He crossed his arms over his stomach, holding his elbows. His wings manifested, and he turned to present his bare back to Lucilius.

“All of it,” Lucilius said, letting a hint of impatience creep into his tone. Physical inspection was obviously the least of the concerns during an examination, but had Lucifer really been letting that part slip? His reports had given no hint of it.

Sandalphon’s wings jerked as if he’d been struck, but he reluctantly removed the boots, belt and trousers, setting the boots neatly together on the stone tiles and folding the rest of the clothes before also depositing them on the chair seat. When finished he stood there uncomfortably, his weight shifting in tiny increments back and forth, his shoulders and thighs tight and tense. The level of discomfort he showed almost made Lucilius wonder if Lucifer had already laid a hand on him, but he dismissed that thought with barely a second’s consideration. Lucifer? After the experience before? Never. This had to be coming from something else. But, whatever the reason, it had a sort of clumsy charm to it. Lucifer’s creation was a bit too plain and boring for his taste, but perhaps he should consider these other aspects compensating factors.

“Kneel.” The word slipped out of him before he could catch himself. It was best to leave such things to after he’d manipulated the core. But the way Sandalphon tried to hide his fear made him want to fan it all the harder. It was almost tempting to leave the core alone and just do whatever he pleased with the spare, trusting his very instability to keep him from betraying the secret to Lucifer. The thought of coming upon the spare in the corridors and seeing that fear spark back into life was delicious. But even that was too dangerous, so he stilled his impulses as the angel went down, first to one knee, then the other. Sandalphon had to spread his wings wide to prevent them from dragging on the floor, and when he knocked one of the chairs a tremble went through him.

“I’m sorry,” Sandalphon said, his voice shaking.

“Be still.” Lucilius stepped forward, deliberately encroaching on the spare’s wings, and placed a hand on the angel’s brown locks. The hair was as soft as down feathers. He ran his fingers through it briefly, savoring the feel of it against his skin, and the faint hint of tension which ran through Sandalphon’s body. “I’m going to look at your core.”

When Sandalphon nodded, Lucilius reached down and laid a hand on the center of the spare’s back. As his fingers sank through the skin, reaching for the core, Sandalphon whimpered and slumped forward slightly. He didn’t even have the discipline to stay still, Lucilius thought with a frown. Another thing which Lucifer had omitted from his reports. Well, it gave him an excuse not to be gentle about it. He leaned forward, plunging his fingers inside and grabbing the core before Sandalphon could snatch it out of his reach again. The spare went still immediately, pinned in place between his desire to escape and the fear of separating his core from his body.

Satisfied that he could now take his time, Lucilius studied the core in his hand. The glow and structure was clearly visible through Sandalphon’s skin now that he had hold of it, and he spent a moment marveling at his own brilliance. The other researchers had thought it impossible to craft a core like this. Where Lucifer’s was a brilliant white, Sandalphon’s was dimmer, hazy, like a globe filled with mist. This was because it had been crafted to be hollow. All of Sandalphon’s functionality, his personality, his shape, had been encoded in a thin spherical shell. All of the other angels which Lucilius had crafted or had Lucifer craft had solid cores, every bit of the volume taken up by either the definition of what they were or the power which let them fulfill their purpose. Without a structure like this, it would have been impossible for Sandalphon to be Lucifer’s spare. There would have been no space for Lucifer’s power to fill him in the event that Lucifer failed.

And the side effects were fascinating. Lucilius had never considered the idea that Sandalphon could steal parts of other angels’ cores and take them inside his. He could act as a spare for any angel, effectively, though the automatic systems were only designed to use him as a fallback for the role of Supreme Primarch. He would have to assume any other angel’s role manually. It would have been an idea worth pursuing… except for his flaws.

With a sigh, Lucilius stroked the core with his thumb, causing Sandalphon to twitch in discomfort, and issued the orders to create the secondary memory store and switch it temporarily to primary. Unlike with Lucifer, he didn’t need to do anything else. Sandalphon’s fraction of a core was insufficient to make him a threat to an Astral. Lucilius let the core settle back into place and removed his hand from the spare’s back.

Sandalphon sat back on his heels, his wings drooping as he breathed heavily. “Is everything… normal?” he asked weakly.

Lucilius unwrapped the red sash from around the back of his neck. Leaving a gap of about two feet between his hands, he gripped it and stared down at the crown of the spare’s head. Unlike Lucifer, he wasn’t even aware of what had been done to him. “Not quite,” he said, and dropped the sash over Sandalphon’s head. Before the spare could react, he pulled it taut around the neck, forcing Sandalphon’s head up at a painful angle and pulling him back against Lucilius’s legs. Sandalphon’s wings beat frantically as he grabbed at the sash which was strangling him, but he was unable to get his fingers between it and his skin.

Instinct was still strong in the primal beasts. Lack of oxygen couldn’t kill an angel, but it still elicited the same desperate reaction as it did when applied to a mortal. Lucilius watched as Sandalphon struggled, his mouth moving silently, deprived of the air he needed to give his pleas voice. The red cheeks, the wide open eyes. A chill of pleasure swept through him as he savored the power he had over the creature pressed against his legs. This could last for hours. But he eased the taut sash just a fraction as he said, “Fighting against me? That’s quite a bold choice.”

It was likely the mix of the reminder with the trickle of relief. Sandalphon stopped fighting, his arms dropping bonelessly to his sides. A tear broke the corner of his eye, trickling down his cheek. Lucilius pulled the sash tight again, slowly, patiently, giving Sandalphon every chance to resist once more, and was satisfied when the angel submitted to it. Letting out about a foot of the sash, he kneed Sandalphon roughly in the back, pressing him forward and down. With smooth motions, he knotted the sash at the base of Sandalphon’s neck, leaving about an inch of give.

“Why?” Sandalphon whispered.

Lucilius drove his knee hard between Sandalphon’s wings, pushing him nearly to the floor. The angel’s back curved, and his shoulders heaved as he breathed heavily in and out. But he took the hint and asked no further questions. “Bring your arms behind your back, forearm to forearm.”

Sandalphon did as he was told, clumsily. As soon as his upper arms began to press against his wings, however, they began to fade as he unsummoned them.

“Keep the wings,” Lucilius said, tugging on the sash for emphasis.

The bindings had the side effect of forcing the wings to extend directly backwards. They brushed against the side of Lucilius’ legs. When Sandalphon had positioned his arms as Lucilius had ordered, Lucilius removed the knee from his back and leaned forward. He wrapped the remainder of the sash several times tightly around the forearms, binding them together and to the collar he’d created around Sandalphon’s neck. It wouldn’t be excessively painful as it was, though with the wings forcing the upper arms apart, eventually his shoulders would begin to ache fiercely. But if he tried to struggle too much, he’d end up strangling himself.

Lucilius hesitated with a hand hovering just above Sandalphon’s head, then he chuckled under his breath and reached down. Pressing his hand through the two halves of the sash which stretched down Sandalphon’s back from his neck to his arms, he stroked Sandalphon’s skin, then deliberately reached through it to graze the core with his fingernails.

Sandalphon gasped at the uncomfortable sensation, but the worse part for him was the fact that his wings flexed. They forced his upper arms apart, putting intolerable pressure against his shoulders and elbows. He shrieked, collapsing forward, and Lucilius smiled as he rested his hand on the spine right above where the core access point was. The spare was shaking now, his entire body heaving with his breath as he tried to bear up under the pain.

“Please… don’t…” Sandalphon cried.

Lucilius took a step back, his fingers trailing across the spine of one wing as he circled around it. The wing flicked under his hand as if trying to escape, but pinned as it was, there was little Sandalphon could do.

Why Lucifer had chosen the color of sparrows’ wings instead of a pure, untainted white was beyond Lucilius’ ken. But he had to admit that the spare had some positive aspects. The slim body, so fragile in appearance. The youthful face, filled with desperation. Perhaps it wasn’t to his usual taste, but he couldn’t entirely deny the appeal of it. And as he crossed from behind Sandalphon to in front of him, he was surprised and gratified to see the spare’s penis already erect.

Lucifer had created an angel which enjoyed this sort of play, hmm? That called many of Lucilius’ assumptions into question. He carefully set aside his thoughts on the matter and crouched down in front of Sandalphon, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up. Tear tracks stained the spare’s face, and his eyes were wide and glistening with the threat of further tears. “Pleas, I don’t mind,” he said, and wiped Sandalphon’s cheek roughly with his thumb. “You can beg all you like. But no one will hear you, and I don’t intend to stop.”

Sandalphon bit down on his lip, turning his gaze away, though Lucilius’ hand kept his head still. When it became clear that the spare wasn’t going to say anything further, Lucilius sighed and let his chin go. Instead he reached out a hand and lightly stroked the tip of the spare’s penis. The smell of Sandalphon’s arousal already permeated the air, and when the shaft twitched under his touch, Lucilius’ thighs trembled. This was the satisfaction he’d wanted from Lucifer. It was too bad he had to fulfill it with such a defective creature.

“Luci… fer…” Sandalphon whispered.

Perhaps it was meant to be inaudible, but Lucilius’ ears caught it. The next thing he knew one hand was holding the spare half off the ground by the front of the sash wrapped around his neck, and the other was lifted to strike. Right before he hit the creature, his reason kicked in and overrode his emotion. Everything went cold and still as he analyzed the fear in the beast’s eyes, and his own all-consuming rage. How dare this thing reject Lucilius in favor of his creation? Right now, when Lucilius should be the center of his existence? When the fear of him should permeate every thought the angel had?

He reasoned. He analyzed. He let the spare fall back down to his knees. And then he struck anyways, his open palm hitting Sandalphon’s face with enough force to send him flying to the side. The spare grunted as his shoulder took his full weight on the stone of the path, but when his wings flailed, trying to get his balance, it dragged a half-sob, half-scream out of him. He collapsed on the ground, trembling. His cheek was pressed into the dirt, the grass half hiding his face, but Lucilius could see the faint glint of new tears.

“Get up and come here,” Lucilius snapped, pointing to the ground in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Sandalphon said, his voice choked.

“Move,” Lucilius ordered, gesturing with more emphasis this time.

Several breaths, in and out, in and out, and then the spare lurched into motion. He pulled his wings in tight and heaved himself up on his knees. His cheek was bright red where Lucilius had struck him, and he kept his gaze on the ground as he moved. His wings scraped the dirt, though you could hardly tell the difference with their dull, boring patterns. For a moment he hesitated, resting on his heels. But right before Lucilius’ anger boiled over once more, he jerkily made his way to where Lucilius had indicated, walking on his knees. When he arrived at the spot, he seemed to fold in on himself, his head hanging as if he barely had the strength to hold it up any longer. His defeat, his perfect helplessness, made Lucilius shiver. Why hadn’t Lucifer been like this?

This time his hands were gentle as he cradled Sandalphon’s cheeks and lifted the spare’s head. He didn’t miss the tiny jerk of fear, but that was fine as well. As their gazes met, he asked, softly, “Who am I?”

Sweet terror filled the spare’s eyes like tea steeping in a pot. He swallowed several times before he finally managed to put breath behind the word his lips formed. “Lucilius.”

“All of you are mine. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” Sandalphon whispered.

There was no hint of Lucifer in Sandalphon’s eyes now. Lucilius could see himself reflected there, consuming the spare’s attention entirely. He grabbed the front of the sash and used it to pull Sandalphon to his feet, savoring the whimpers as Sandalphon’s forearms dug into the base of his wings. Swinging the angel around so his back faced the table in the center of the little garden, he shoved him backwards step by step until Sandalphon’s wings were trapped between him and the table. That brought a little resistance out of him, but it was easily overcome. Lucilius considered forcing him up onto the surface without letting him dismiss the wings, but he wasn’t in the mood for more screaming. Better to wring the shame out of him than submerge it in more pain. “Unsummon the wings,” he said.

As they faded, Sandalphon’s back struck the table with a thump. His shoulders folded forward now that the wings were no longer holding his arms in place, and his head drooped, his chin resting on Lucilius’ knuckles where they gripped the sash. Perhaps it was meant as some sort of conciliatory gesture. Lucilius ignored it, twisting his hand in the sash until Sandalphon had no give in it at all, and then pushing forward. Sandalphon’s back arched as he fought against the shove, gasping. His face exposed now, Lucilius could see the desperation in the angel’s eyes. He didn’t know what was coming, but he knew he didn’t want it.

“Please,” Sandalphon said, the barest of breath behind it.

“Up,” Lucilius said coldly. It was such a relief that he needn’t worry about hurting the thing with this level of mistreatment. Angels were remarkably sturdy, and with Sandalphon, he could simply fix any damage he’d done before releasing him back into the lab. No one would miss him if it took a few hours, and he wasn’t advanced enough to detect the aftereffects. So when the spare twisted, trying to escape, Lucilius simply adjusted his grip and dragged him up onto the table with raw force. His muscles ached from the effort, but he got what he wanted. He took a step back, assessing the overall effect.

The angel was stretched over the table, his back slightly curved as if trying to keep most of his weight off the arms pinned beneath him. It would only hurt his shoulders in time, but Lucilius hardly cared. If the creature couldn’t make a rational decision, it was only fair that he suffer the consequences. He’d let his head rest against the surface of the table, staring blankly up into the sky. The motions of his chest were short and spare, either due to pain or fear, and his legs hung off the table, dangling a few inches above the ground. His penis curved up over his pelvis, fully erect, beads of moisture glistening at the tip. It wasn’t the perfect position, but it would do for now.

“You wanted to know why?” Lucilius asked, taking a step forward and placing his hand on Sandalphon’s thigh. “It’s because you’re a weakness to him.”

“Weakness…?” Sandalphon flinched.

“Of all the angels, you’re the most vulnerable. He was built to protect and nourish, so a creature like you must be nearly irresistible. No matter how worthless you might be, he simply can’t leave you alone.” Lucilius squeezed hard, letting his fingernails dig into the angel’s flesh. When he lifted his hand, little half-moons of blood rose from where the nails had cut into the skin. “So when he displeased me, I turned to you.”

Lucilius suspected that Lucifer’s attachment ran much deeper than that, but this was about wreaking psychological havoc. Sandalphon wouldn’t remember this — more the pity — and Lucifer would never know. So if this was to be only temporary, he wanted to destroy the spare as thoroughly as possible.

Fishing his small jar of lubricant out of his robes, he set it on the table, then began to slip off his clothing. He kept his voice even as he continued to speak. “You’re the perfect instrument to damage him. When he sees what I’ve done to you, he’ll know that he should sacrifice you for the sake of everything else he believes in. And yet he won’t be able to, because to abandon the weak is also a rejection of everything he holds dear. It’s the perfect conundrum.”

Lucilius was ready when the spare tried to roll off the table, trying to escape. It was the only thing that Sandalphon could do to prevent the future which Lucilius was spinning for him, and so it was utterly predictable. Futile. With his arms tied he couldn’t manage the door. At best he could mount some feeble resistance before being dragged back up onto the table again. But Sandalphon sobbed in frustration when Lucilius caught his hip and slammed him back down.

“What I didn’t realize — didn’t even hope for, actually — was that you might enjoy yourself. That what you really wanted all along was to be exploited. I intended to defile this place, his place of peace and tranquility, but to do it with your seed instead of your screams… that’s just an additional sweetness. I wonder what he’ll think of you when I tell him?”

Sandalphon’s eyes went wide and he froze in place.

“Surely you’re not surprised. There’s no point if he doesn’t know.” Lucilius stepped in close and tapped one of the beads of moisture at the tip of the angel’s penis with a finger. “I’ll make sure to describe every single detail.” He drew a line of wetness down the side of the shaft, and Sandalphon trembled. Tilting his head, he affected an air of consideration. “I suppose, however… that it could have the wrong effect. After all, you aren’t the innocent he thought you were. He might even think that this was exactly what you deserved.” That was such a blatant lie that he was surprised that Sandalphon didn’t show even a hint of doubt. The angel seemed almost hypnotized by horror. Lucilius lowered his voice and added quietly, “Perhaps I could be persuaded to leave certain aspects of this out.”

The words were the untempered, intolerable bitterness of overbrewed tea, poured into the delicate porcelain cup which was Sandalphon’s psyche. He could see the thousand subtle indications as it reached the brim and overflowed. The tiny shudder. The emptiness in the eyes. The spare’s muscles went limp, and his back finally lay flat, accepting the pain of having his arms twisted beneath him. In the wake of Lucilius’ words, the vessel itself shattered. Sandalphon’s lips barely moved and his voice was flat as he asked, “How?”

“Lift your legs for me. As close to your chest as you can,” Lucilius said. He reached for the lubricant as Sandalphon moved, slow and clumsy. His leverage was poor, half off the table and unable to use his arms for balance or to hold on, but he soldiered on with grim determination. Lucilius shuddered as he watched the angel struggle to obey, idly stroking himself with the cool liquid from the jar. Now that they were entering the final steps of the dance, he realized how ready he already was. Even the light touch he used to prepare himself drove him close to the edge.

Finally Sandalphon’s legs settled into place with a gasp and a shudder, his knees pressed together like he was kneeling on the air. The tight, puckered hole of his anus was clearly visible now, and Lucilius took another dollop of the liquid onto his fingers and stepped in. As his fingers stroked the hole, it seemed to suck the moisture off of them. Lucilius smiled, then deliberately grabbed one of Sandalphon’s knees with his other hand and yanked it roughly to the side.

“How am I going to get at you like that?” he asked, tsking under his breath. Sandalphon tensed, but then let his legs splay to the sides. It was much harder than keeping them pressed against his chest, but it was clear that the only thing he had on his mind now was not being revealed to Lucifer. He’d sucked his lower lip between his teeth. Well, endurance of pain was far easier than enduring unwilling pleasure. Lucilius grasped the angel’s penis tightly in his hand, drawing a whimper out of him, then slowly pressed his index finger inside of the angel.

At first Sandalphon tried to retreat, the hole itself pulling away as he clenched up. Lucilius was painfully gentle, slow, and inexorable. He worked the edge of the head as he sank his finger deep inside, and he could feel Sandalphon’s resistance crumble as a moan burst from him. It was as he had thought — the angel had been made for this. How cruel of Lucifer to create an angel like Sandalphon and then abandon him, wrapping him in purity and innocence until he was left with just a craving he didn’t understand and could never fill. Lucilius smiled. Perhaps this was an odd sort of mercy, then.

Sandalphon had turned his head to the side, biting his lip again, his eyes tightly shut. His thighs trembled, either from trying to keep his legs suspended or from the sensations running through him. But the soft muffled noises he was making in the back of his throat tipped the balance in Lucilius’ mind, and he’d already relaxed. Lucilius drew his finger out, rubbing it against his middle finger to transfer a bit of the lubricant between them, then slowly worked both of them back in. At first Sandalphon seemed like to try and resist again, but he folded almost immediately with a gasp as Lucilius twisted his fingers slightly.

“Look at me,” he said.

A flush had crept up the spare’s neck and suffused his cheeks, a darker red where Lucilius had struck him, as if the dye had spilled from the sash still wrapped around his neck and tainted his light skin. He barely moved his head, his eyes opening to just slits, complying with the words and not the spirit. Lucilius’ smile tightened, darkened, as he parted his fingers, forcing the angel further open. A delicate touch, not to harm, but to bring him right to that point. Sandalphon tensed, the instinct to resist coming to the fore, and the sash tightened around his neck as he fought the bindings around his arms. His breath quickened as the air thinned in his throat.

“Look at me,” Lucilius repeated, coldly. “Eyes open.” He didn’t want the spare pretending he was Lucifer. That idea was simply repulsive.

With a strangled cry, Sandalphon turned his face forward and opened his eyes. They glistened in the evening sunlight, but Lucilius could clearly see that he was reflected there. The angel was ready enough. Slipping his fingers free, he stepped forward, his own penis grazing the angel’s thigh, causing him to jump. With his other hand, he gripped Sandalphon’s chin.

“Aren’t you happy? To finally be useful?” he whispered.

As the cruelty of the words registered in the spare’s mind, his mouth dropped open slightly. And with that satisfying image, Lucilius thrust into him. He wasn’t particularly careful — he already knew the spare could take him — but the roughness of it brought a primal terror to the angel’s face. Again he struggled, but the sash kept him in check. Lucilius felt his testicles brush against the angel’s cheeks, jiggling slightly with Sandalphon’s desperate motions. And he savored it, the fear, the struggle, and the fact he could still feel the angel’s penis, erect and brushing against his stomach. Why couldn’t this have been Lucifer? This satisfaction, those same feelings reflected in eyes that were like Lucilius’ own, but different?

With a growl, he grabbed the spare’s hips and pulled him slightly closer, heedless of the fact that would make his position on the table even more precarious. It shifted the angle just a hair, and when he rocked in and out, he was rewarded with a cry from Sandalphon as he rubbed against the prostate. Satisfied that he didn’t need to bother with anything else, he threw himself into his own pleasure. He let himself revel in the feel of the canal tight around his shaft, the gentle resistance against his head as he pushed in, and the tenuous feeling of loss as he pulled back out. If only this was Lucifer. But the spare’s voice was sweet as he cried out wordlessly. Not perfect. Defective. Broken. But for this, perhaps enough.

Lucifer. For how you spurned me. He felt himself riding close to the edge, his thrusts becoming less controlled and more wild. It was hard to focus around the tide of pleasure which crept higher and higher up his spine. Even if you got over your ridiculous principles, this will always have been mine first. You are mine. Everything that is yours is mine. Now and forever.

The spare shuddered underneath him, and warm wetness splashed against Lucilius’ bare chest. That incongruous sensation paired with the realization that he’d achieved what he wanted flung him over the top. He buried himself to the hilt in the spare as the orgasm rode him, barely able to keep himself on his feet as he shook with the force of it. His hips moved without his conscious will, and every accidental stroke brought another shock of pleasure. It was almost too much to bear, and it was a relief when it finally faded and he let himself collapse forward onto the spare’s unresisting body.

The desperate pounding of Sandalphon’s heart was what got him to move, a sudden wave of disgust splashing over him as he looked into the spare’s terrified eyes. What had ever made him think that this was what he wanted? Satisfying to break him, perhaps, but he felt dirtier for the experience. He staggered back from the table and towards his clothes. Fishing the hand towel he had brought from the heap, he wiped himself off. Irrational as it was, he scrubbed at his chest until the skin burned. It was like the ejaculate had sunk into him, tainting him on some fundamental level.

He would have been better off with just his own hand.

A whimper from the table got him to lift his head. Of course. The thing wanted to be released. He took his time putting back on his robes and assuring himself that he was no longer mussed before he returned to the side of the table. He wasn’t gentle as he turned the spare over, but he did smile a bit at the thought of the creature fouling the table just as he’d said it would. As Sandalphon’s arms were released from the sash binding them, the spare tried to move too quickly and hissed under his breath as he realized just how badly it could hurt to be bound up for an extended period of time. Lucilius retrieved his sash from around Sandalphon’s neck and tossed the towel down next to him. “Clean yourself up. And the table.”

As he watched his orders carried out, Lucilius let his mind wander. Perhaps what he needed was a creature different from either Lucifer or Sandalphon. He couldn’t replace Lucifer at this point; the research council would never stand for it. But if physical satisfaction was what he wanted, he should be able to construct a compelling case for building an angel which would suit his needs. It was simply a matter of drawing up the right proposal. Tempting as it was to duplicate himself again, only with more attention paid to the more critical aspects of the design, he was certain that would draw questions. He’d already had to tolerate more than a few “jokes” about Lucifer’s appearance, so he would have to compromise on that point.

“Lucilius?”

It was a shock to hear the spare speak; he’d almost forgotten what he was in the middle of. Perhaps understandable, but it didn’t do to be sloppy. He couldn’t entirely hide the irritation in his voice as he beckoned the spare over and pointed to the ground, saying, “Kneel.”

It was an exact match for what he’d done at the beginning. He hadn’t entirely lost his capacity for reason. The spare obeyed with more reluctance in his posture, but more quickly than he had the first time. He didn’t need to be prompted to bring his wings out or spread them. With a sigh, Lucilius reached down and grasped the core. First, fix the damage. Then wipe the memories.

He didn’t fix all of it. All of the surface damage he was careful to smooth away, but the muscle aches which would surface in a day or two, those he left. It amused him to think of the spare wondering why he felt so terrible when he could remember nothing of consequence to cause it. Even if Lucifer were to return more quickly than anticipated and wonder what was amiss, there should be no obvious signs to indicate what Lucilius had done. Perhaps it would make a pleasant mystery for him to solve.

Right before he erased the secondary memory store, however, something caught his attention. He pulled the core close, ignoring the spare’s terrified, pained cries, and inspected it. Was it simply his newfound knowledge of how the spare worked which made the core look so fragile to him? Or was there something else? It seemed unexpectedly… ephemeral. As if the thin sphere which contained the critical functions was thinner than it had been. Lucilius frowned, but issued the command to switch back the functions and erase the now-useless store.

It had to be his imagination, he thought, as he let the sphere slip out of his hand and return to the angel, who collapsed forward, gasping. A temporary state of mind couldn’t possibly influence the core permanently. If it could… that could have terrible implications.

“Did you… find anything wrong?” Sandalphon asked, looking up at the sky. It was already approaching sunset — he had noticed the passage of time.

“I’ll need to speak to Lucifer,” Lucilius said as he stood, carefully checking his robes one more time to ensure his appearance was flawless. The look of fear which Sandalphon fixed him with was pleasant, but it only conjured up a pale imitation of the feelings he’d grasped when the spare had been drowning in terror.

And he intended to do no such thing.


	3. Conflicting Needs

With a sigh, Lucilius leaned back in his armchair, frowning at the sheaf of papers in his hand. The new set of research proposals his assistants had presented were awful. Terrible ideas, every one of them, yet he could see the appeal they would have to the Council and knew that they would be approved over his objections. They were promising: that was what was wrong with them. Doomed to failure, but promising; only he could see the flaws. He sighed, clicking his tongue. If only he had put it off until later in the day or the week. He had thought that a bit of relaxation might put him in the right frame of mind to deal with the bother, but he had also hoped to find even one worth his time…. How foolish of him to hope for such an improbable outcome. Tension was already creeping up the back of his neck, portending a headache in the near future. He sighed again, letting his hand fall to his side, the sheaf of paper dangling from his fingers. He would take the opportunity to rid himself of his assistants entirely if it was offered to him… they were far more trouble than they were worth. But the Council wanted him to keep them. Probably intended as oversight. Ridiculous.

The faint creak of the bed caught his attention. Belial, his latest creation, his latest pet, was slowly levering himself up from where he lay atop the sheets. Even from here Lucilius could tell the angel was still disoriented. There was a slight hitch as he completed each distinct motion, and his brow was furrowed with confusion. None of these reactions were unforeseen. Memory manipulation carried consequences, and Lucilius was hardly going to leave himself exposed by allowing the angel to retain memories of the experience, no matter how eager Belial seemed to partner him. Belial was facile enough to satisfy Lucilius’ requirements without training, a trait that enabled Lucilius to wipe him at the end of every session and still be satisfied with the results. Perhaps someday he would grow bored of Belial’s lack of development, but for now, he found his own deliberate manipulation of the variables of their encounters sufficient to keep himself engaged.

The angel was still naked, and Lucilius allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the play of Belial’s muscles underneath his skin as he moved, getting first to his knees, then leaning back and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He might not be Lucifer, but Lucilius had put just as much effort into Belial’s physique, and the angel was quite aesthetically pleasing.

And distracting. “You may leave,” Lucilius said, returning his attention to the proposals. Perhaps with enough thought he could make a convincing argument to the Council not to fund any of them. He had far more worthy projects to spend those resources on. His assistants could improve themselves by executing on his designs, and perhaps by following them some of his brilliance might take root… if their barren minds were even capable of nourishing the seed. He had his doubts.

Belial didn’t go to retrieve his clothes, instead crossing the room to Lucilius’ side. Lucilius maintained his distant expression as Belial’s shadow fell over him. The angel had been crafted differently from the others, embodying a personality trait and associated tactics instead of an aspect of the physical or ethereal world, and Lucilius had to admit that sometimes he found the beast’s unpredictability disturbing. However, he had long since come to the conclusion that the worst thing he could do was indulge Belial when his mood shifted. Eventually the angel would take the hint, get his clothes, and leave. As far as Belial knew, Lucilius had never been anything other than professional. This had simply been a routine examination; they were nothing more than scientist and creation.

Lucilius tensed when Belial went to his knees next to him, laying his cheek against Lucilius’ thigh. The view from this angle sent a shiver up Lucilius’ spine. His fingers tightened on the papers in his hand, creasing them. He stared down at Belial’s dark hair and the exposed back of his neck, his spine, the access point to the core so tantalizingly in reach. There was nothing stopping him from reaching out and grabbing that neck, dragging Belial backwards or forcing his head to the ground… or elsewhere… except his own good sense. He let out a slow breath, relieved that his robes had bunched slightly as he sat. “Did you need something?” he asked coldly.

“Cilius… don’t you want to do something more fun?” Belial cajoled.

“Call me by my full name.” It was a tired argument — they’d had it repeatedly over the past several weeks. Perhaps due to his social nature, Belial had quickly adopted a level of familiarity which was unusual among the angels. Lucifer had only begun to call Lucilius ‘friend’ after years of working together, and none of Lucilius’ other creations had ever tried to follow Lucifer’s example. Perhaps they realized he wouldn’t tolerate such closeness.

Belial lifted his head, craning it so he would be visible in Lucilius’ peripheral vision even if he returned his attention to his work. The beast brought his arm up, laying it on Lucilius’ leg to provide support for the rest of his body, his fingers resting just above Lucilius’ knee. “You aren’t satisfied yet, are you? Let’s go another round.”

“No,” Lucilius replied absently, then stiffened as he realized what Belial had said. As he met the angel’s red eyes and noted the faint curve of Belial’s lips, he realized that this had been a deliberate gambit to draw information from him, and that his own reaction had confirmed Belial’s suspicions. Unpredictable indeed. Even more cunning than Lucilius had realized. He could try to play it off as a misunderstanding, but if Belial had come this far already, prevarication would only worsen the situation.

Lucilius set the papers aside and gave the angel his full attention. Belial smiled up at him lazily.

“How did you know?” Lucilius asked.

“I’m hurt, Cilius,” Belial said, shifting so both his arms were on Lucilius’ leg as he gazed up at his creator. “With my purpose, you didn’t think I’d realize when I’d been fucked?”

Lucilius frowned at the vulgarity, reading the dissatisfaction hidden under Belial’s easy tone. “And? Are you dissatisfied that I used you for what you were designed for?”

Belial raised his eyebrows. “I’m upset that you made me forget.” One arm slipped down from Lucilius’ leg, and he splayed his fingers over his own bare thigh. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

The image of Belial rearing back, howling with abandon as Lucilius dug his fingers into his wings, but willing, so wantonly willing, crossed Lucilius’ mind. He directed his gaze slightly over Belial’s shoulder, aware that it made the fact that he was lying obvious, and yet unable to overcome his instinct to conceal his responses. “It was acceptable.”

“Acceptable, hmm?” Belial murmured, getting to his feet.

Finally the creature would leave him be, Lucilius thought with relief. It was irritating that he had been caught out, but the angel knew nothing of the details, and nothing of Lucilius’ history. Belial’s creation had been a personal project, and while Lucilius had needed to obtain approval from the Council, the angel’s role was non-essential. Lucilius could dispose of him at any time. He would have to come up with some excuse for the Council for why the experiment hadn’t panned out, but it wouldn’t have the impact of losing Lucifer or the spare. The risk was minimal. He exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t presume,” he said. “You’re a beast, nothing more. Remember your place.”

“I’m nothing more than what you made me,” Belial said with a chuckle. Suddenly, he swung a leg over Lucilius’ lap and leaned in close. Too close, but Lucilius’ pride held him still. As Belial settled his weight on Lucilius’ thighs, Lucilius fixed him with a flat look of disinterest. That simple look had quelled many an uppity research assistant, but instead of quailing, Belial’s red eyes lit with delight. He closed the last inch between them and tilted his head, carefully running the tip of his tongue along Lucilius’ closed lips. “Isn’t this my place? Let me in,” he murmured.

“Don’t—” He had only opened his mouth to order Belial to stop, but as soon as his lips parted it was already too late. Belial pounced on the opportunity, his tongue insistently pushing past Lucilius’ lips and teeth. But once he was inside, instead of ruthlessly pressing his advantage, Belial grew coy. He lightly teased Lucilius’ tongue with his, taunting, courting, demanding a response. It was maddening, and eventually Lucilius grabbed the back of Belial’s neck and pulled him forward, forcing Belial’s tongue out of his mouth with his own and turning the tables on him. This kind of casual intimacy usually held little interest to him, but under these circumstances he could see the appeal. Belial was his. Forcing the angel’s tongue down was simply another expression of his absolute ownership.

When the thought made him hesitate, Belial moaned deep in his throat and began to suck lightly on Lucilius’ tongue. The image rose unbidden of how the angel’s mouth would feel if it were applied somewhere else, and Lucilius shuddered. His robe suddenly fell loose around his neck, and he realized with a start that Belial’s arms were over his shoulders and had already undone the clasps holding it tight. Before he could reassert control — when had he lost control?! — Belial had pulled away, tugging at the sleeves of the robe as if encouraging him to leave it behind as he stood just barely out of arm’s reach.

“Teasing me and then leaving me cold? Don’t you think it’s cruel to take advantage of a poor virgin?” Belial asked, widening his eyes when Lucilius didn’t immediately move.

“You’re hardly a virgin,” Lucilius snapped.

Belial’s expression darkened slightly as he dropped the play at innocence, his eyes tinged with sensual wickedness. “Aren’t I?” He let go of Lucilius’ sleeves and stepped back, cupping his hand around his erect penis. “I don’t think I’ve ever used this. Or…” He moved his hand to his waist, his fingers curling around the curve of his hip. “Was it me that caught? I can’t quite remember.”

The emphasis on the words was delicate, but it hardly needed to be heavy. So… Belial wanted to have an experience to remember, did he? Well, Lucilius could no longer pretend innocence. Disposal was always an option. Perhaps he could afford a little indulgence… another experiment, of sorts.

Lucilius stood up and let his robes slide off of him, leaving them in a pool on the floor as he stepped out of them. He controlled his expression, his body language, projecting weary disdain and a cool confidence over the heat that had taken root in his groin. Belial watched Lucilius as he approached, deliberately running his gaze up Lucilius’ body. The tight black bodysuit he wore underneath the robe did little to hide him from Belial’s inspection, and the fact he was being observed should have meant nothing to him. But the frank appreciation, and the way the angel’s gaze hovered over certain areas, that was fresh. If left to his own devices, the angel might even take the initiative in these affairs — had already, considering the events which had led up to this moment. As he stopped just inches from Belial, close enough to feel his body heat, the angel reached out and pulled him into a close embrace. His cheek pressed against Belial’s chest and it became very hard to analyze his own reactions intellectually.

Was that Belial’s thigh pressing against his groin, teasing him through the fabric? It seemed accidental, but Lucilius doubted it was anything but deliberate. The angel leaned down as if wanting another kiss, but when Lucilius turned his head away, Belial went without hesitation for Lucilius’ ear, teasing the lobe with his tongue. It put Lucilius off balance. He was the scientist — the one who controlled the experiment, but he felt out of control. It was as if his mind was being read, his reactions predicted. Right before he pulled his ear away from Belial’s mouth, Belial’s hand tangled in his hair and held him still. A chill went up his spine as Belial pulled the lobe between his lips and began to lightly suck on it. The sensation drove all thought out of his mind. Belial’s thigh was rubbing against him… no, Belial wasn’t moving, it was him. His head was spinning; it was impossible to focus. Even nights without sleep hadn’t left him this disoriented.

Step by halting step Belial guided Lucilius backwards, until the back of his knees struck the side of the bed and Belial came down on top of him. He gasped as Belial pulled away, feeling suddenly bereft. The earlier chill was gone, and now all he felt was the pulsing of his own heart. His body was flush with a surfeit of blood. His hands rose unbidden to help Belial remove the bodysuit, shivering as the fabric slid over his skin, and the sudden shocks as Belial’s fingers occasionally brushed his arm, his leg.

“I didn’t know you could look at me like that, Cilius,” Belial said, his voice low. “Has it been like this every time? I want to bury myself inside of you right now…”

Something about what Belial was saying caught for a moment on the edges of his conscious mind. As Belial gripped his calves, pushing him back on the bed and lifting his legs, the sense of wrongness only grew. Those red eyes staring at him between his thighs, over his erect penis, dripping, there was something terribly wrong with this…

His will crystallized, and when Belial leaned forward, his wings spreading wide and cloaking Lucilius in darkness, Lucilius reached over the angel’s shoulder and clumsily grabbed for his core.

His first attempt wasn’t accurate. The angle was awkward and his vision was blurred. But it was close enough that his fingers dipped beneath the skin and grazed the surface of the core. Belial shuddered, falling forward on top of him with a cry. Lucilius ruthlessly pulled the beast forward, closer, until he had a better angle. This time he grasped what he was looking for, ripping the core nearly out of the angel’s back. As Belial screamed, Lucilius felt his mind clearing. His reason began to work again, his control slowly returning. He wrapped his free arm around Belial’s neck and held him still, and only then did he let the core dip back towards its resting place. Not all the way. No. He wouldn’t yield that much control. “How utterly reckless of you,” he hissed into the angel’s ear. “Turning your fangs on your master.”

“You think I charmed you?” Belial said, with a breathless chuckle. “You seemed perfectly willing to play al—”

A shudder went through the angel as Lucilius bobbled the core in his hand. He thought of himself as even tempered, generally, but he could feel the tiny sparks of his growing anger. How dare Belial even hint that he’d be willing to let himself be rutted by a beast? That level of humiliation… of debasement. The very suggestion was repulsive.

And yet… even now he felt Belial’s warm tongue, the feel of the angel’s fingers in his hair, holding him still. There wasn’t any possibility that Belial was charming him now, not with his core suspended half out of his body. It had to be some lingering effect. It…

His jaw hurt from how tightly he was grinding his teeth.

“Hey…” Belial said, an uncommon hesitance in his voice as he broke the silence. “Are you going to dispose of me?”

It was tempting. Rid himself of the beast who’d tried to own him. Belial had proved that he was dangerous, hadn’t he? Lucilius’ earlier assessment had been naive. Belial was willing to use the knowledge he had, even if the results went counter to Lucilius’ will, and the tools Lucilius could use to control him were too limited to handle him. There was no way to get rid of the memories Belial had of what had happened over the last several minutes. If the beast wanted to use them, he could. Lucilius could control the ensuing damage… but there would still be damage, and his position was already tenuous enough. The Council and their demands…

As if Belial read Lucilius’ answer in his silence, he barely turned his head, pressing his cheek against Lucilius’ chest.

The manipulation in that tiny gesture, Lucilius thought, staring down at his creation, at the smoky core clutched in his fingers. Belial must be unable to see any other way to influence the situation. This gesture of affection wasn’t regret, it was simply the angel attempting to secure his survival in the face of Lucilius’ anger. That cunning could be turned against his creator at any moment. The betrayal could come at any time. His fingers closed tightly around the core. Belial should be disposed of. No matter how pleasant he had been… It would be irrational for Lucilius to let elicited emotional responses drive his reaction under these circumstances. 

And yet…

“Cilius,” Belial exhaled his irritating nickname, barely audible.

“No,” Lucilius said as his nails dug into the core. “I’m going to train you.”

Several minutes later, Lucilius looked over his work with a sigh. Belial, in analysis mode and completely insensate, was sprawled face-down across the bed, his skin a brilliant white against the dark sheets. His wings were splayed randomly, two tucked against him, one half-extended but still entirely on the bed, and the other three draped messily over the side where they had dragged as Lucilius had pulled him up. Lucilius suspected he might have done some damage to the smaller bones while moving the angel’s body, but he hadn’t had the leisure or the inclination to be careful. An angel with his wings manifested was heavy, and it required painstaking manual manipulation of the core to get rid of them while in analysis mode. It wasn’t covered in the core command list, the shorthand commands he used during examination and experimentation. He hadn’t considered this eventuality. Perhaps he would add such a command in future models.

The angel’s arms were stretched out as if reaching for the corners of the bed, as were his legs. Dark metal manacles encircled his wrists and ankles, a faint blue glow indicating that they were active. Lucilius kept the restraints in the drawer next to his bed in case of emergencies, though he’d hardly expected to use them in this situation. It lacked a certain sense of finesse, but he had no choice with the behavior Belial had displayed earlier. Lucilius had reduced his strength and agility, but his intellect had to be intact in order for this to have the desired effect, and it was his intellect which made him dangerous.

That said, at their hearts, beasts were simple creatures. They understood pleasure and pain, and those were tools which could be employed to elicit the behavior patterns he desired, yoking the intellect to his service, as it should be.

Lucilius brought his hand to his mouth, resting his index finger over his lips and pressing his thumb to his chin, considering the angel thoughtfully. There were signs that Belial might not be so easily handled. Constructing him had been… challenging. Parts of the design had been borrowed from Lucifer’s original specifications, but over half of the core matrix had been completely reworked. Belial didn’t need the world system connections that Lucifer did, and their absence had given Lucilius significant leeway to tweak the kernel of his personality and physical reactions. Over the intervening months he’d realized that, like Lucifer, Belial had flaws. Perfection always seemed to be just beyond Lucilius’ grasp. However, in Belial’s case, the flaws did not directly interfere with the purpose he had been crafted for. His responses were abnormal — similar, in some ways, to the spare’s, though Lucilius hesitated to draw a comparison to such a fatally flawed creature. Belial was significantly more advanced, significantly more useful. But Lucilius had never tried to test the limits of those abnormal reactions. The angel had been willing, and it would have been tiresome to fix any significant damage. However, under these cirumstances…

Glimmering in the light of the lamp at Belial’s side was a scalpel. Lucilius reached down, laying his fingers on the handle briefly. One of his favorite tools; he kept it well honed. It was one of the few items that could interfere with a beast’s fundamental structural matrix, allowing him to remove or remold aspects of the creature after it had been built. He could use it if necessary… or if he simply desired to do so. Such wounds wouldn’t heal quickly. But not yet. Not quite yet.

He climbed up onto the bed next to the angel, tucking one leg under the bottom wing to get close enough, and ran a possessive hand over Belial’s back. 

He’d never thought that an unpredictable system could enthrall him so, but even so, what Belial had done… it was a step too far. It couldn’t be tolerated. 

Putting his weight on Belial’s lower back, he leaned forward, reaching for the core. Belial’s face was unlined, peaceful, almost innocent. Lucilius smiled and shook his head. What skill, to create an angel that could lie even when unconscious. He dipped his fingers deep into the access point and cradled the core in his hand. With a sigh, he disabled analysis mode and allowed Belial to wake, then sat back, letting the core free.

The angel’s eyelashes fluttered, and then he slowly opened his eyes. Running his tongue along his lips, he moved his head slightly, looking towards the head of the bed as if confused. His arm muscles twitched, then jerked, and Lucilius saw his red eyes narrow as he realized he couldn’t move. Belial dropped his chin and twisted his head around to look over his shoulder, barely capturing Lucilius in his peripheral vision.

“I didn’t realize you were this kinky, Cilius,” he said.

He viewed the restraints as some sort of… extension of sexual behavior? Where did he even pick up such vocabulary? His learning capacity should be similar to Lucifer’s… but that it would take such a turn, based solely on inclinations. Lucilius let out an exasperated sigh — the last thing he needed was to be drawn into Belial’s pace once more. “It amazes me that you decide to joke under these circumstances. Do you understand your position?”

“Tied down to a bed?”

Belial gasped as Lucilius rammed his fingers through the membrane of the nearest wing and twisted, tearing the webbing further. The start of the gasp was pained, but the end note was a sweet moan, and a tremble ran through Belial’s body. Lucilius’ throat went dry. He ran his fingers over the torn membrane, sending another shudder through the beast’s body. His autonomous systems should be screaming warnings, and yet his reaction was… this. “Don’t test me right now, Belial,” he said, quietly. “Or are you having trouble with more recent memories? You are aware of why you are in this situation, aren’t you?

“I couldn’t help it, Cilius! Just one look at your flushed face and I went hard as a—”

Lucilius’ teeth clenched. He snatched the nearest wing tip, grasping the bone underneath the skin securely. It trembled underneath his fingers. “Call me Lucilius,” he said, and twisted his hand, snapping the bone in half. This time Belial’s back arched and his wings flexed, but if anything, his cry was tinged with more pleasure than pain. Lucilius planted his hand on another part of the wing and slowly put all of his weight on it as he leaned forward, his nails grazing the membrane without piercing it. “I won’t tell you again.”

As soon as he saw Belial’s lips quirk in the first sign of a smile, he realized his mistake. His rage… Belial was eliciting this reaction out of him deliberately. Even knowing that he was walking the line between survival and disposal, Belial wanted this. The pain was nothing more than another form of pleasure to him. It went against every instinct Lucilius had to let go of Belial’s wing and stand up with a sigh. His fingers ached to grab the scalpel and just start carving. He could take out the tongue; now that was tempting. But he could rip every inch of skin off both body and wings, break every bone from smallest to largest, and the angel would still want more. The image he could see in his mind was enthralling, and the need to do it was almost overwhelming, but he needed control. Giving in to Belial’s desires would simply cede it further.

“Going soft on me?” Belial asked tauntingly.

“No,” Lucilius replied, his emotions tightly in check as he stared down at the angel. “On reflection, I think it might be more educational to let you have some time alone.”

The silence as Lucilius lifted his clothes and began to dress was deafening. Belial had to have felt in control as he drew out Lucilius’ anger, and to have his target suddenly withdraw had caught him off-guard and put him off-balance. He would be trying to decide on his next approach, assessing which had the best chance of success. Perhaps even changing his goal.

He had tried lust. He had tried pity. He had tried anger. What would be next?

Lucilius crouched down, hooking his fingers into the cloth of the robe, but went still as Belial moaned loudly. The faint hush of skin against fabric… he glanced up at the bed. Yes. Belial couldn’t move very effectively with the restraints still active, but he was making an effort at stimulating himself regardless. Lucilius found himself smiling as he shook his head. Was this an attempt at eliciting jealousy? Amusement?

He stood, the robe hanging from his hand. “Pretend all you like, but I don’t believe you’ll be able to get enough friction laid out as you are. Though, if you manage it, do let me know. Hmm… I suppose that a couple of weeks would be long enough to make a proper experiment of it. I’ll be expecting a full report.”

“Ahh… I think… I think I’m about to…”

Could raw cunning be applied to a problem which was solely physics? How creative would he get? Lucilius was tempted to watch the gyrations, but staying now would send the wrong message. He pulled the robe over his head as Belial continued his theatric exploits in the background, and hissed under his breath as the heavy cloth stroked his erection on the way down. Belial was no longer moving, though the angel was groaning as if he was approaching climax. A fair attempt at deception, but Lucilius had used him frequently in the past few months and was quite familiar with his tricks. For all Belial’s bluster before and during the act, he quieted down significantly when he was actually orgasming.

The robe was uncomfortably warm when Lucilius was this aroused, but he was hardly going to go out of the room in just a bodysuit in the state he was in. It would be far easier if Belial would simply relent; neither of them wanted this outcome. If the promise of abandonment couldn’t even crack Belial’s facade, then it didn’t bode well for the results of any other training Lucilius might employ. The angel might simply be intractable.

He made it halfway to the door before Belial finally went completely silent, then called out, “Lucilius.”

His full name. Interesting. Lucilius deliberately took two more steps, then half-turned, looking over his shoulder. Belial’s red eyes transfixed him from across the room. Now that he had Lucilius’ attention, he tensed his muscles, pulling at the manacles which held him still. His voice had softened, adopted a pleading note. “Don’t leave me like this… Lucilius… please…”

The naked need drew him in. He’d taken several steps back towards the bed before he even realized he’d moved. He took a few moments to compose himself and carefully assess his emotional response, looking for any sign that it was crafted instead of natural. The arousal was not overwhelming. If he still wanted to walk out of the door, he could, and it was tempting to do that just to prove it to himself. But this was the signal he had expected — a demonstration of repentance, though the honesty of it was still in doubt With careful, measured steps, he closed the distance to the bed, looking down at the angel. “Are you done with your defiance?”

Belial’s gaze was measuring and wary as he stared up at Lucilius. The pretense of jocularity had been discarded — this was something closer to his core personality, beyond the trappings of sets and costumes which he used to manipulate those around him. He endlessly clashed against the boundaries of appropriateness, and he had difficulty with obedience. He was, in fact, the exact opposite of Lucifer. However, he was capable of reasoning through situations with a fair amount of clarity and insight if given the proper incentives. Eventually he let out a long, low breath and closed his eyes. “If that’s what you want.”

“Get rid of these,” Lucilius ordered, placing a hand on the nearest wing. The sensation of the warm skin against his fingers faded as the wings silently disappeared. Belial didn’t move as Lucilius sat on the side of the bed and took the angel’s chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over Belial’s lips. Without prompting, Belial took the thumb into his mouth and ran his tongue up its length. It was sensual, but there was little heat in it. No teasing. Only mechanics. Lucilius gritted his teeth, suddenly tempted to strike him. There had always been something missing when he’d used Belial before, but this was worse. The sensation of Lucifer’s flaccid penis suddenly flashed through his mind, and he pulled his thumb out of the angel’s mouth with the taste of disgust carried over from that moment. His eyes lit on the scalpel, but he doubted he’d get any satisfaction even if he employed the blade.

What was this curse? Was it because they were simply beasts? Would he have to find his amusement elsewhere? Even Astrals were boring — not a one could challenge him meaningfully.

“Lucilius.”

The soft voice caught him off-guard, and he looked down to find Belial staring up at him. It had to be painful from that angle. His reply was cold and short. “Yes?”

Belial gave him a pained smile. “I don’t know what you want. I’ve tried, but I just don’t understand.”

“Of course. You’re nothing but a beast.” The hrash dismissal should have ended the conversation, but the question was too perceptive. It followed his own thoughts too closely. Even if he understood it himself, he could hardly tell one of his creations. They were no better than things. You didn’t have heart-to-hearts with your desk or your bed.

He managed to suppress a frustrated sigh and reached for the closest manacle. With a touch, he disabled all four, letting Belial free. “Get out,” he said, and went back to his chair.

He expected his order to be followed this time. After all, hadn’t he already made the point that’d he’d accept no further disobedience or disrespect? Belial had accepted that. So when the angel came over to him once more, he felt a cold, empty rage fill him. This time he truly would dispose of him. He could use the core in a new beast after it was properly wiped. There was still the chance that Belial’s defects would stain whatever Lucilius built from it, but the angel had been a significant investment, his core steeped with power. It didn’t suit Lucilius to waste it. He lifted his gaze from his papers just as Belial went down on his knees. Lucilius stared at the angel as he lifted his hand. The dull glint of textured metal in the low light. It was the handle of the scalpel. A thin line of blood ran from Belial’s palm and down his wrist and forearm. The blade must be pressed into his skin. Belial extended his hand, offering the scalpel handle first.

“Go ahead. Cut me.”

As Lucilius took the scalpel from him, half in a daze, Belial tilted his head to the side, presenting his neck. He lifted his hands, palm up, the one with the shallow slice from carrying the scalpel, the other still unblemished, offering options. His skin was pale, the blood a much darker red than his eyes. Lucilius’ mouth was dry and his fingers tightened around the scalpel’s handle. “You’re boring me,” he said, the words coming from a distant place.

Belial straightened his neck and looked up at him from below. There was a quiet resolve in his crimson eyes as he got up on his knees and lifted his hand towards Lucilius’ face. The fingers were extended as if to touch his cheek, but Lucilius lashed out with the scalpel, slicing open Belial’s palm. Belial pulled his hand back defensively, a hiss of pain escaping him. A few drops of blood fell from the scalpel, leaving spatters of red on Lucilius’ robes.

He was breathing heavily, his fingers so tightly clenched around the scalpel that his bones ached. “There. You got what you wanted. Get out.”

But that strange light was still in Belial’s eyes. He placed his bleeding hands on Lucilius’ leg and pushed himself up. His motions were sinuous, hypnotic, and as he moved he pressed himself against Lucilius, turning it into a full-body caress. This wasn’t the aggression he’d shown before. There was no defiance or demand. Just a… craving. It was like he didn’t even notice the threat of the scalpel… no, that it wasn’t a threat at all. Even now, there were little twists which presented his neck, his chest, his wrist, vulnerable spot after vulnerable spot, giving Lucilius the opportunity to lash out at him again. He was courting the blade, and the realization was so bizarre that Lucilius didn’t even move until Belial’s warm lips pressed against his.

This time he stabbed the scalpel into the curve where the neck met the shoulder. Belial’s entire body stiffened — it had to hurt, much worse than a little cut on the hand — but this time he didn’t draw back. Lucilius let go of the scalpel and wrapped a hand around the back of Belial’s neck, pulling him closer. He tilted his head to get a better angle and opened his mouth, realizing that Belial had matched him. Thrusting his tongue past Belial’s teeth, he realized that the angel wasn’t fighting back at all. His fingers curled up close to the base of the chin and caught the pulse of the artery against their tips, the heartbeat racing. It was impossible to tell whether it was from fear or excitement. Perhaps… perhaps it was both.

Roughly, he shoved Belial away from him. As the angel fell backwards, a bewildered look on his face, he reached backwards to catch himself. Or tried. The arm on the side where Lucilius had stabbed him with the scalpel hung limp. He collapsed onto his side with a cry of pain. He’d struck the nerve, then. The scalpel had done its job. Lucilius stood from the chair and crouched next to the angel, ripping the scalpel out of his shoulder with little care for whether he did more damage. And then he got to his feet, once more gazing down at Belial from above. His index finger played absently over the textured metal of the grip.

It suited him, the suffering. The angel clutched at his shoulder, blood smearing his fingertips. It was a brilliant splash of color against his pale skin, enhancing the violent red of his eyes. And yet still he tried to get back up. Lucifer had given up, but somehow remained above the entire situation. And Sandalphon had simply yielded, unable to provide more than a token resistance. Belial…

“Stay down,” Lucilius said.

Belial got to his knees, clutching at his nerveless arm. His eyes were determined. He got one leg under him and began to stand.

“I said, stay down,” Lucilius said quietly. When Belial didn’t immediately obey, he firmed his grip on the scalpel’s handle and drove it through Belial’s undamaged shoulder. It wasn’t enough to force him back to his knees, but Lucilius saw the strength go out of the arm, the fingers unfold. Belial was gasping now, both of his arms taken from him. And yet, despite his pain, the signs of his arousal were clear. As he sat back on his heels, his legs slightly spread, his penis hovering above his thighs, red with entrapped blood. The tip shined with beads of liquid.

The scalpel still in his hand, he reached behind and released his robe. And as he worked the catches of his undersuit, he realized: this was deliberate. All of it was deliberate. Belial was baiting his responses, providing just enough defiance to provoke a reaction without reaching the threshold of a threat. Earlier he had said that he didn’t understand, but now he was playing to Lucilius’ needs. The memory of Belial’s bleeding hand holding the scalpel crossed his mind. Had the presence of the tool on the bed been enough for him to come to this conclusion? Or had he been playing with Lucilius the entire time?

The creature kneeling in front of him was completely different from the one he’d used over and over before. A stranger. But this… this was sweet. The taste of it spread through his mouth like a the complex flavors of a fine wine, the layers of need building on top of each other to provide the finest experience. As Belial regained himself and slowly lurched to his feet, Lucilius grabbed him by the throat and forced him backwards. He threw him onto the bed and held him down by the neck as he pulled the scalpel free with his other hand. Intellectually he knew that Belial was letting him do this — even if his arms were useless, his legs were still fine — but he was drunk with the feeling of power. He wanted to bury himself to the hilt inside his helpless creation and see the look of ecstasy on Belial’s face.

But as he reached a hand between Belial’s thighs, the angel had the gall to close his knees, barring him from what he wanted. Ridiculous that Belial wanted to play the virgin now. He stabbed the scalpel deep into the joint where the pelvis met the thigh and drew the blade across in a sharp cut, severing the tendon. That would be sufficient for what he needed, but he hissed under his breath and did the other leg as well. He wasn’t in the mood for games anymore. If Belial wanted to be cut to pieces along the way to Lucilius’ satisfaction, he would happily comply.

The angel’s legs fell loose like a puppet cut from its strings, splaying outward. And Belial moaned, a rich sound deep in his throat, a mix of pleasure and desperation. He arched his back, thrusting his head back into the bed and his pelvis into the air. Even as a shudder of pain ran through him as the gashes in his legs stretched open, he only moaned louder. “I can just… almost…”

Lucilius leaned forward, placing a hand on Belial’s chest and pressing him into the bed. The angel’s maddened eyes met his gaze. “I wonder if you could climax just from me cutting you,” he murmured.

“Let’s… make it an experiment.”

Lucilius felt his lips quirk in a hint of a smile. He grabbed Belial’s shoulder and pushed him onto his side, savoring the groan of pain as Belial’s shoulders bent inward. Fetching the small jar of lubricant from the side table, he dabbed a little onto the angel’s anus. It was chill to the touch, and Belial writhed even with the tiny amount of stimulation. Holding up the scalpel to the light for a moment, Lucilius considered giving Belial exactly what he was asking for. The thought of riding him while he was bleeding was appealing. And yet… there was always the future, wasn’t there?

Without hesitation or mercy, he drove the handle of the scalpel deep inside Belial’s rectum. Belial’s entire body stiffened as he cried out, a stuttered half-gasp which petered out quickly as he realized he hadn’t gotten what he expected. It was still stimulation, but it was hardly what he’d asked for, and nowhere near what he wanted.

“That’s barely anything, Cilius,” he said with a hint of a whine.

“Ah, so you think I should just give you everything you want?” Lucilius replied, a hint of irritation rising in him as Belial pulled out that infuriating nickname once more. At the same time, he realized Belial was trying to provoke him again, and he made the decision not to rise to it. He twisted the scalpel, not missing the tremor which went through the angel’s back at the subtle sensation of the metal caressing his inside walls. “I don’t think you understand the nature of our relationship, then.”

“Fill me up. I can take it all. Everything.” The confidence in the angel’s voice was undercut by the hint of breathless need around the edges of the words.

“I’m sure you can.” Lucilius gently worked the handle in and out, in and out. There was a periodic hitch in Belial’s breathing each time it reached its full depth, and a faint sigh as it left. Was he craving the blade? Could he sense it approaching each time Lucilius twisted the handle in? “I’m sure you want me to. But you haven’t asked.”

“I did ask. I even,” he hesitated, “asked nicely.”

And he had, actually. As Lucilius had threatened to leave, he’d asked. Lucilius twisted the scalpel absently, placing a hint of pressure on the back of the blade so it would press against Belial’s inner walls as it turned, and considered as Belial’s abdominal muscles tensed and he gasped at the renewed assault of sensation. The start and middle had been rocky, but perhaps he’d earned a bit of a reward for the end. Training was a process, not a switch. The angel had bared his neck, shown some willingness to comply. Not broken, but bending. Perhaps that was enough for now.

And it would take days for the tendons and nerves he’d severed to knit back together. If Lucilius left him cold, he’d be unbearable while he healed. He could be simply dumped into a closet somewhere, but…

“Please — ah — please, Lucilius!”

And his voice was so sweet when he was desperate. Some of his brashness melted away, revealing a simple beast with overwhelming desires. If Sandalphon’s innocent desire to be possessed was Lucifer’s unspoken want, what did Belial reflect in Lucilius? He drew the scalpel’s handle out slowly, setting it on the side table. Belial’s breath was still ragged, and he enjoyed the angel’s heaving back as he dipped his fingers in the jar and thoroughly coated his own penis. It would be better if his wings were out. The feel of tearing them to pieces was sublime. But there was already enough blood to satisfy him, and the wings would make the process awkward when Belial couldn’t support himself. He left Belial on his side and took his leg over an elbow, lifting it through Belial’s cries as the femur threatened to pull free of the hip joint. For a moment, he waited. Belial was holding his breath either in pain or anticipation, and Lucilius didn’t want to satisfy it quite yet. Only when he felt Belial exhale, about to speak, did he move.

The feeling of being sheathed was something he was accustomed to, the warm stroke against his sensitive skin. But he’d never played around this long, never tried even half of the things he’d done this time, and the heightened anticipation and the psychological stimulation amplified the feeling tenfold. He was suspended on the edge, almost ready to ejaculate from the one, simple thrust. Belial had no leverage, but Lucilius could feel his will to move, to meet Lucilius’ thrust with his own response as he always did. Helpless, he instead tightened his muscles, not to reject the invader but to welcome it in. Lucilius placed a possessive hand on the angel’s hip and patiently pushed the last few millimeters, leaving them locked tight together. His fingers stroked the open wound on the thigh, the warm blood coating his fingertips, and he drew a line down Belial’s leg in red.

There were still so many more things he could cut.

Instead, he moved his hips, little motions at first. He wanted to savor this, and he was already so close. Even the sound of Belial’s gasps was almost too much. And Belial was close, too. His muscles were tensing as if he was climbing a mountain alone in a storm, hands reaching out for the peak. Yet without something more, he was denied. All it would take would be Lucilius’ fingers to graze the tip to send him over. The thought that the angel was stuck, suspended, waiting for Lucilius to release him, it upended all of his pretentious notions of taking this slow. He drew out for real this time, and gritted his teeth as he drove himself back in, trying to hold back for just a little while longer. His fingers were tingling, and his own breath had lost its rhythm. He grabbed Belial’s hip with all his strength and thrust again, feeling the angel shudder underneath him. This was what he had craved. This absolute mastery. Complete ownership. As if he were a god himself, providing blessings and curses on his creations…

The world shook around him as he thrust the last time and every muscle in his body tensed. Heat flooded him, and pleasure rode on its wake. A moment later he collapsed forward, his hips jerking as he ejaculated. Every tiny thrust brought another wave of pleasure. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t control this, but control wasn’t necessary. The moment captured him, held his mind captive, and he felt his orgasm stretch outward. From master to slave. That one thought was a discordant note in the middle of this beautiful symphony. And he let it go.

As the shaking began to subside, he let the elbow holding Belial’s leg up drop and he grabbed the angel’s penis. As he had thought, it barely took anything to put Belial over the edge, just a couple of quick jerks. As Belial clenched down in the throes of orgasm, another flood of pleasure washed over Lucilius. He fell against Belial’s back, clutching the angel close, pressing his cheek to Belial’s shoulder as Belial moaned and shook.

“Cilius,” Belial said, resting his head against Lucilius’ leg as he sat in his chair, going over the latest sheaf of reports from his subordinates. “I’m bored. Another round?”

It had been two days since they’d had sex. The damage to Belial’s legs had been easy enough to fix. A few stitches, some replacement parts and a bit of magic had given him the ability to walk again. Lucilius had done it as soon as he’d woken up the next morning. But the nerve damage in the shoulders was a far more complicated issue. While he’d repaired the physical damage, the process of integrating the replacements into Belial’s system would take time. The angel could twitch his fingers now, but that was his limit. And until he’d returned to full functionality, it was best for him to remain in Lucilius’ room.

The idea of retreating into the lab for an extended period had never been so tempting before. Or he could lock down a lab for an “experiment which shouldn’t be disturbed” and move Belial there instead. Both had their advantages and disadvantages.

“No,” Lucilius replied, barely glancing around the sheets of paper before returning his attention to more critical matters. “Occupy yourself.”

“But I can’t.”

That wasn’t entirely true. With the level of flexibility he’d built into Belial’s back and neck, he should be able to… hmm. But it would be difficult without his arms to provide the leverage to contort his body so. It might indeed be impossible. His eyes wandered off the pages in front of him again, back to Belial, who was now looking up at him with mischief clear in his eyes.

“Got you hard just thinking about it, didn’t it?” he asked, licking his lips.

Infuriating creature, Lucilius thought, but he had the feeling some indications of his amusement had reached his face. He composed himself and said, “No. I have important things to do, and I’m not going to put them aside to entertain you.” He hesitated, perfectly aware he was going to regret the concession, but Belial was far more tempting than the paperwork. “If you stay quiet while I’m working, I’ll consider it when I’m finished.”

“Okay.” The eagerness and lack of disappointment in Belial’s voice made him half regret his decision. The angel had known exactly what he was doing. But if it got him out of Lucilius’ way while he was working, perhaps that was acceptable.

Holding the reports one handed, he absently laid a hand on Belial’s hair, stroking the base of the angel’s neck lightly with his thumb. The quiet, pleased sigh he got in return kindled a hint of warmth in him, and he relaxed, feeling a quiet determination to tackle the task before him… and quicken the approach of what might come after.


	4. The Experience of Subjugation

Lucilius lifted his cup from the saucer and took a careful sip of the delicate tea, savoring it for a moment before he swallowed. As he set it back down where it came from, he looked across the table between him and Beelzebub and smiled. “Excellent, as usual.”

Beelzebub smiled in return, leaning back in his chair and only then taking a sip from his own cup. “I obtained it on my last trip. The researchers there are doing work with cross-breeding plants for a variety of tastes. While their research is currently focused on tea, I expect they will be able to generate inspired results once they branch out.”

“Hmm,” Lucilius replied, noncommittal. The botanists’ work was interesting, but he couldn’t help but feel that it paled in importance to the work of the primal researchers. He’d had this argument with Beelzebub before, and it was tired old ground that he wasn’t particularly interested in retreading. They’d had less of a chance to talk recently, with the increasing pressure of the research council to produce more and more results while offering less funding. “Is the council planning to send you out again soon?”

“I expect I will be dispatched in another few days,” Beelzebub answered with a slight lift of the shoulder.

“Ah.” Lucilius took another sip of the tea, letting himself relax. The chair was comfortable, well padded, constructed of a very fine hardwood — also an experiment from the botanists. As an observer, Beelzebub benefited heavily from gifts given by the researchers he was tasked to visit. Instead of the sparse, plain appearance of Lucilius’ quarters, Beelzebub’s was filled with trinkets, treasures and opulence. A thick white rug stretched nearly the entire length of the room, and every surface supported some decorative or functional object, balanced carefully so they didn’t seem crowded. For example, on the bedside table sat a delicately formed pottery lamp, its surface covered in fanciful images of beasts. Next to it was a small crystal which slowly shifted colors, sending gentle prismatic light spilling over the rest of the table. Lucilius had a feeling he could spend hours in Beelzebub’s room just studying the objects within, trying to tease out their secrets. He’d never want such a room for himself, but as a diversion, it was quite pleasant. “Have you seen my latest creation?”

“The brash one with only a passing familiarity with clothing?” Beelzebub chuckled, but it wasn’t purely out of humor. “Briefly. One of your assistants was taking him into one of the less-used labs, and it did not look like scheduled maintenance.”

A ripple spread across the surface of the tea in his cup. “Do you happen to remember which assistant?” He phrased it casually and tried to keep his tone in match, but his fingers had tightened uncomfortably around the tea cup’s handle. He returned the cup to the saucer, trying to prevent damaging it carelessly. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Belial was finding amusement elsewhere, given his nature, and yet… the thought of his creation underneath another Astral sparked a small, yet white-hot flame in his stomach. Perhaps he’d have to put a little more effort into education.

And while this was Belial… none of them had dared touch Lucifer, had they? The flame suddenly jumped from candle to bonfire as he considered the possibility. Surely Lucifer would have told him. If one of the assistants had bedded Lucifer, perhaps even imagining that they were demeaning Lucilius himself… he would skin them alive, carefully, and then leave them to rot outside until their hearts finally gave out from the caresses of the wind on their innards.

The thought calmed him slightly. He’d verify with Lucifer, but if Lucifer hadn’t been able to perform for Lucilius, it was doubtful that he’d have tolerated the touch of the assistants. And as irritated as he was to think his subordinates might have the gall to use _his_ creations for _their_ personal satisfaction, there was one bright side. Some of them had been far too arrogant recently, demanding funding for their projects over his, or challenging him on points of design. Belial needed to be controlled, but if he were employed properly, their indiscretions could come back to haunt them. Some of them he’d settle for threats, but one or two he might be able to drive into dismissal. And it would also keep Belial sated for a while. When he didn’t get enough attention he could become quite annoying.

“I have better things to do than remember the details of your subordinates. I believe it was a tall woman with black hair.” Beelzebub studied him for a moment. “You’re wearing a terrible expression right now, Lucilius.”

It was an effort to control himself, but he gave Beelzebub a thin smile. “I simply can’t abide the thought of an Astral being ridden by a beast.”

“Is that so.” Beelzebub’s tone was neutral. Far too neutral. “Perhaps I was mistaken; I thought I saw something akin to jealousy in your eyes.”

Control was everything. He mustn’t react. Even if Beelzebub was a friend, that was a topic far too dangerous to touch. “Don’t be ridiculous. It would be like being mounted by a horse. Both are demeaned, but the sentient one is brought far lower.” The thought of Belial’s tongue in his mouth crossed his mind, and then he could almost feel Belial’s weight as the angel pressed him into the bed. His mouth was dry as he remembered how close he had come to letting the creature have him. Demeaned indeed.

Beelzebub turned the cup in his hand thoughtfully, looking down into its depths, then sighed. “They are interesting playthings, I admit. Useful, when used properly. Dangerous if given airs.” He glanced up and met Lucilius’ gaze directly, and his eyes narrowed. “No Astral would consider letting them assume an improper role, would they?”

The moment to deny it passed before he could formulate a response. His gaze slid down to his tea. Well, if it was going to come out to anyone, Beelzebub was the best option. They had been friends for decades. And while it was possible that this would destroy that friendship… it was far better than one of his assistants, or anyone on the council. He took a long draft of the tea and set the cup down deliberately with a little clink. Lifting his gaze back to Beelzebub, he noted that there wasn’t as much disgust in his friend’s eyes as he’d expect before a betrayal, and said, “I’m not a fool. No matter how tempting the fruit, I know it is poison.”

Beelzebub nodded, slowly. “Perhaps you need another form of company.”

That brought a snort from him. “Of course not. You more than anyone know I’m married to my work. Who would I leverage? An assistant? Nearly as bad. One of the council members? I’d practically be prostituting myself for funding. I have more pride than that! They should recognize my brilliance and compensate me accordingly; I’ve given them far more than they can even appreciate.” He could hear the bitterness in his own voice. It was more honesty than he gave to anyone else.

“I could partner you.” It was delivered so casually, without emotion, that for a second Lucilius wasn’t certain what he’d heard.

He wasn’t a fool, so when his mind caught up with his ears, he went quiet instead of immediately putting his reaction into words. Beelzebub wasn’t typically what he considered as his type. Strong and bulky, he nevertheless had a hint of femininity to his mannerisms. If asked before this moment, Lucilius wouldn’t have expected that Beelzebub would even be interested. If he were to accept… what would he be getting?

Perhaps nothing terribly interesting, he acknowledged. But if it were to satisfy these urges, it might still be sufficient. He tilted his head to the side and smirked faintly. “I suppose, if you think you could handle me.”

“I enjoy a challenge,” Beelzebub replied with a chuckle. He set down his cup and stood up.

It was strange. They’d known each other for years, and yet there was an odd tension in the air as Lucilius was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his friend was quite tall and struck a very intimidating presence. It was an effort to keep the casual expression on his face as Beelzebub circled behind him. But what was Beelzebub going to do? Touch him? He’d already accepted that. It could be no worse than what Belial had attempted…

The neckline of his robe pulled tight around his neck, and he gasped in surprise as he was unceremoniously jerked up from the chair. Instinctively his hands lifted to the neckline, only to encounter Beelzebub’s arm as it wrapped around his neck and pulled tight. “What are you—?”

“It sounded like you wanted to be ruled, Lucilius. Is this fear?”

A shiver went up his spine as his fingers dug into the fabric of Beelzebub’s sleeve. If he truly wanted… his friend would back down. This wasn’t necessary. All he needed to do was say that his defiance had been a mistake. But he could feel a strange weakness seeping into his limbs. Yes, a faint hint of fear. Was this what Belial had felt when he’d been restrained atop the bed? This sense of being frozen, and yet around the edges, a sweet taste of pleasure. He opened his mouth, then closed it, biting his lip.

Beelzebub’s other hand reached up, running a thumb across the line of his jaw. “Tell me ‘no’, and I will stop. I can be generous to the prostrate. But I doubt that is what you want, Lucilius. Am I correct?”

His pride nearly strangled the word in his mouth. “Yes,” he whispered.

Hot breath tickled his cheek as Beelzebub leaned down and nipped at his earlobe. “You may say ‘no’ at any time,” he said quietly. Then, with a sharp shove to Lucilius’ shoulders which sent him stumbling forward several steps, he added, “Your robes. Take them off.”

Lucilius’ hands felt uncharacteristically clumsy as he lifted them to the catches on his robe, and he hesitated with his fingers on the metal of the clasps. Was this actually what he wanted? Generally he considered friends a nuisance, and he was certain that most of the Astrals he encountered had figured that out without him having to say a word. Those who persisted in acting familiar were almost certainly trying to curry favor, and he dealt with them without mercy. And yet, Beelzebub was different. They had been friends almost before Lucilius had realized it, a certain similarity of mindset drawing them together, the relationship developing slowly and naturally over time. If this were to jeopardize this rare friendship, would it be worth it? He turned slightly, looking back at Beelzebub’s face. What he found there was layered. A hint of sternness, but underneath that, simple enjoyment. More than he would have expected from someone just filling a role to help a friend. It was possible that Beelzebub had wanted to do this for quite some time. However, for all that he tried to peel away the upper layers and see the depths, he could find no malice there.

He made his decision and undid the clasps just as Beelzebub said, “Do you find the act of disrobing too difficult?”

The robe fell around his bare feet. But with Beelzebub’s words he suddenly felt far more naked than he should have, with the bodysuit still snug around his skin. A bulge at his groin marked his growing arousal. He could fold to the embarrassment, but the idea of bending so easily didn’t sit well to him. So he finished the turn and crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows. “Impatient, are we?”

Beelzebub smirked, and suddenly closed the distance between them. Lucilius only took a single step back before Beelzebub was on him, twining fingers in his hair and pulling his head up and to the side. Lucilius grabbed for the arm which held him, trying to pull it free, but Beelzebub’s other hand went under his raised arm and jerked the catches of the bodysuit free. The fabric around his neck suddenly fell loose. He hissed in frustration, realizing too late what Beelzebub’s aim had been. He let go of the other Astral’s arm and tried to strike away Beelzebub’s hand as it went for the neck of the suit, but it caught in the fabric first and yanked roughly. The suit slid over his shoulders and down his arms to the elbow, forcing them down before he could make another attempt to free himself from Beelzebub’s grip.

None of this was truly serious. Both of them could strike out with powers that would destroy the room — perhaps the entire wing. This was nothing more than a teasing scuffle, and yet his heart was pounding in his chest.

Beelzebub left the bodysuit where it was for a moment, taking advantage of the fact that Lucilius’ arms were partially pinned. He tugged on Lucilius’ hair, forcing him to look up into Beelzebub’s red eyes. They were so similar in color to Belial’s. “Or do you crave help?”

And with that, he let the hair slip free of his grasp. Lucilius looked to the side, not wanting to see his own exposed chest, or Beelzebub’s hand clutching the fabric. If he could have cut his arms off in that moment, he very well might have. The humiliation of it was killing him, but it was twinned with a tingling heat that crept up though his thighs. Beelzebub took his silence as consent and efficiently stripped the suit the rest of the way off of him, tapping at his feet to get him to lift them, which he did, reluctantly. Then Beelzebub circled behind him and laid his hands on Lucilius’ shoulders, walking him a few steps forward out of the pool of his clothing and then pushing down until Lucilius went down on his knees. The rug was thick enough that he couldn’t even feel the stone through it — it was practically as soft as a bed.

The hand on his spine which pressed him down was gentle, tracing the ridge under the skin with a delicate touch. Lucilius dug his fingers into the rug as Beelzebub raised his hips so he was on his hands and knees. He knew how this would end now, just a simple rutting on the floor, and he felt a rising tide of frustration killing the heat in him.

“I spend more time on foreplay with my beasts,” he snapped.

Beelzebub’s hand hesitated on his hip. “Do you truly wish more?” he said, his tone mostly amused. “You claimed inexperience.”

There were layers in the question he felt ill-equipped to handle. He wasn’t certain that what he thought of as foreplay and what Beelzebub thought of were the same. This had already been a departure from what he’d expected from his friend. Yet he hardly wanted to admit his ignorance, so he said, “I’m not a child. Don’t treat me like one.”

“If you insist,” Beelzebub murmured. “Stay.” He lightly patted Lucilius on the back.

Now that he wasn’t going to just bear. He rolled over and sat up, cross-legged, watching as Beelzebub went over to the dresser and pulled out the middle drawer, poking around inside of it. Curiosity bubbled up inside of him, and a little nervousness. If Beelzebub pulled out a knife, this was going to be over right then and there. As much as he enjoyed inflicting pain, he wasn’t particularly fond of experiencing it, even if the damage wasn’t permanent. He should have thought of that before he’d said anything. But so far Beelzebub had been excellent at putting him off-balance. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have tolerated it. But under these conditions… it had been unexpectedly stimulating.

When Beelzebub turned back around, it was with a bag in his hands. Lucilius furrowed his brows, his curiosity denied, and Beelzebub looked like he was about to laugh.

“Subservience seems alien to your nature.”

“Because I won’t play along? Don’t be ridiculous.” But he did wonder for a moment whether there was some disconnect between them. Lucilius had never much cared for what the beasts thought, as long as they were compliant enough. In fact, he rather liked the last ditch desperation when they realized what was about to happen. That moment when Belial had capitulated when he’d threatened to leave, and the futile attempt that Lucifer’s little pet had made to escape. The memory of both of those was sweet. But he wasn’t a beast, and he had no interest in playing one. He and Beelzebub were equals, no matter what… this was.

“You only make it harder on yourself,” Beelzebub said, circling around him. “But if you demand I enforce my rule… I believe that I just told you that I enjoy a challenge.”

A shiver went up his spine, and his pride warred with the need to see where Beelzebub was at all times. He’d just made up his mind to bruise his ego just a bit to soothe his nerves when Beelzebub sat down behind him and stroked a hand down his right arm. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his fingertips, the hair on Lucilius’ arm standing on end, and then he heard the click as metal closed around his wrist and snugged tight against his skin. He looked down frantically, realizing they were the same sort of cuffs he’d used on Belial, and that his hand wasn’t moving. It was already spatially fixed. Lifting his gaze to Beelzebub, it was with more frustration at being caught out than actual resentment that he spat, “What game is this?”

Beelzebub held up another cuff, with two more waiting in his other hand. “You complain my methods are overcomplicated after demanding that I employ everything against you. If fear has overtaken your resolve, you are welcome to admit defeat. Give me your other hand.”

If given the time, he could burst the cuff off his wrist with magic. He knew how they worked. But they had been designed to be difficult to interfere with; you couldn’t very well use restraints which weren’t. And Beelzebub’s eyes were sparkling, daring him to try before he was pinned down. He considered his options carefully, then with an irritated sigh, gave Beelzebub his hand. It would be the essence of rudeness to break his friend’s toys when he knew he had a ‘legitimate’ out.

It felt different when the second cuff closed around his wrist and Beelzebub tugged them into the small of his back. His chest felt a little tight, and he could faintly feel his racing pulse in his fingertips. The cuffs weren’t fixed in place any longer, just attached to each other. He could move… get to his feet and run, if he wanted to, really. The thought crossed his mind, but Beelzebub’s hand closed around the cuffs, tugging him upwards.

“Up on your knees.”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Lucilius groused as he did as he was told. There was a little less force behind the words than he’d wanted. It felt a little… weak.

An actual tremble went through him as Beelzebub cuffed his ankles, a faint shiver in his muscles remaining in its wake as it passed. And as Beelzebub used the restraints to position him with his ankles crossed at right angles and knees spread wide, the cuffs locked in place so he couldn’t escape any longer, he could feel the air almost chill against his exposed penis and testicles. The word ‘no’ suddenly seemed to loom large in front of him. Would it even be honored if he said it?

The quiet worry nestled in the core of his mind suddenly fanned into a raging bonfire as Beelzebub sat down in front of him and pulled the next item out of the bag. Lucilius’ eyes fixed on the delicate chain, rare these days. Why would Beelzebub even have a restraint collar? They were typically tightly controlled, because they were dangerous. They’d originally been used on primal beasts, but as the power of the beasts increased and the methods of control the researchers employed had become more sophisticated, they’d fallen out of favor. But there was one thing the collars could do which all of those other methodologies could not: they could be used on Astrals.

Lucilius watched as Beelzebub pooled it in his off hand and closed his fingers around it in a fist, unable to look away until it disappeared from view. Beelzebub stroked his cheek with a thumb. “You know what this is. Does it frighten you in my hands?”

For a moment, the panic consumed him. If he had thought the humiliation of being rutted by a beast was bad, the idea of being helpless like this was far, far worse. With that thing around his neck, Beelzebub could do anything to him. Anything. If he wanted to parade him through the hallways and up to the research council to ensure he was tossed out of the lab for good, he could do that. Throw him to his creations, that was possible as well. His breath was strangled in his throat. When had he stopped breathing? His vision tilted; the room spun.

But in that shifting of perspective he found something fixed. His lungs restarted, his mind suddenly clear. If Beelzebub wanted him humiliated, Lucilius had already given that up in the moment he’d let himself be cuffed. The collar could be secured around his neck before he summoned the magic to escape. He simply hadn’t thought through all the possible consequences before he’d let it get this far. If this were a battle, he had already lost. Beelzebub had him trapped, and yet he didn’t make the final strike to end it.

This wasn’t a battle. The only remaining question was whether he wanted to let it proceed. His friend was waiting for an answer, his eyes like a still pool. It was likely that he was already thinking about whether to put an end to this immediately. But the undeniable truth was that Lucilius could feel the tension in his groin, the hint of a chill as a drop of liquid threatened to spill free of the head of his penis. There was something appealing in this twisted game, something which piqued his interest. And as long as that was the case, it would be remiss for him as a scientist to not see the experiment to the end. “I don’t see what I could do to stop you,” he finally said, rolling his shoulders as if to emphasize that he was still restrained. His tone was casual, and Beelzebub understood the meaning behind it.

It still made him shiver as his friend leaned forward and draped the chain around the back of his neck, trailing fingers along it and pressing it lightly into his skin before touching the two ends together in the hollow of his throat. He gritted his teeth as he felt the chain pull tight around his neck until there was no air between his flesh and the collar. There wasn’t any pain and his breathing wasn’t constrained, but the inescapable feeling of it being there was discomfort enough. 

Beelzebub took his chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted his head up. “Call your magic,” he breathed.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a fan of pain,” Lucilius replied snidely.

His friend actually chuckled. “A thread. It will not strike unless you attempt to act with it.”

If what he understood about the collars was correct, Beelzebub wasn’t lying to him, but it was one thing to understand something in theory and another to understand it in practice.

“I will not proceed until you call your magic,” Beelzebub added, bringing up his other hand and running them lightly across Lucilius’ shoulders. The caress made him shiver.

It wasn’t that he was afraid. He simply didn’t want to comply with such a ridiculous, self-destructive request. With a frustrated cluck of his tongue, he drew a hair thin thread of magic into him, careful not to give it an outlet. It was an unnatural, irrational use of the power… and he immediately was glad he hadn’t tried anything further.

The collar pulsed lightly against his skin, accompanied by the sensation of a snake raised to strike. A low, discordant buzz stung his skin beneath the metal. It was enough of a warning — he let go of it immediately, feeling the power slip from his grasp and fizzle unsatisfyingly. The collar’s systems withdrew warily, but he still felt the faint pulse against his throat. That pulse persisted until Beelzebub ran his fingers over the collar, sending it back into quiet.

“If you call your magic again, I will stop,” Beelzebub said next to his ear. “If you find yourself unable to speak.”

Well, that was ominous, Lucilius thought to himself as Beelzebub stood up and circled behind him. It might be another way of stopping this game, but it wasn’t one he was particularly eager to employ.

It startled him as his wrists were pulled apart, then roughly yanked above his head. Before he could even settle himself into the new position, Beelzebub yanked harder, and he gasped as his knees were lifted off the ground and he was half-suspended in the air from his wrists. The cuffs around his ankles didn’t want to let his legs move that way, digging into his skin for a few, brief, painful moments before Beelzebub adjusted the wrist cuffs downward about an inch. He was still stretched out, and it was with a sense of disquiet that he realized he was even more exposed than he had been before. Beelzebub’s hands stroked down the outside of his arms, down his sides, and came to rest on his waist.

“I told you I didn’t like pain,” Lucilius said, slightly breathless, desperate to retain some control of the situation.

“A misjudgement,” Beelzebub said, mildly. He took his hands away from Lucilius’ hips, but in the next moment one was between Lucilius’ legs, stroking up the inside of his thigh. Lucilius hissed before he bit his lower lip to quiet himself. The sensation seemed directly connected to his groin, his penis twitching even without being touched. “You can express yourself however you like; I do not demand your silence.”

“If you want me to howl for you, you’ll have to do a—”

Beelzebub’s hand lightly pulled at his cheek, opening him up, and every muscle in his body stiffened. This had always been where this had been going, and yet, when faced with it, he suddenly found it more daunting than he’d expected. He closed his eyes, bracing himself — even knowing that was the worst thing he could do — and waited.

What came wasn’t either of the things he’d expected, unless Beelzebub’s fingers were conal and made of non-organic materials. The tip which slid inside of him was blunt and rounded and no larger than a pencil, wet with some sort of lubricant, but he could feel how it widened down its length as it slid inside of him. But as soon as it became too much and he started to resist, Beelzebub slowly drew it back out again. He let out a breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding, his head dipping low as he breathed in and out, a little too quickly.

“You needn’t fear. I will give you all the time you need,” Beelzebub said, and once again the thing invaded him. This time it went a little deeper, gently forcing him open before retreating once more. Instinctively he tried to pull away, struggling with the bindings on his wrists, but he could barely move at all. The third time, a cry of pleasure slipped free of his lips. Beelzebub didn’t pull it entirely out this time, either, barely giving him a moment between assaults. He could tell that his body was already shifting to accommodate it, and the deeper it went the better it felt. Now he wasn’t trying to pull away from it, he was trying to lean back into it, but the restraints were as unforgiving of the latter as the former. And just as he felt he’d been pushed to a comfortable, satisfying width, the thing was suddenly inside him entirely as his anus closed behind it.

That was unexpected. He tried to process it, thinking about what or why, but Beelzebub’s chest was pressed against his back and his hand was reaching around Lucilius’ waist and towards his groin. His body tensed with anticipation, and the feeling of that tension tightening around the thing inside him made him shudder with another wave of pleasure, but he was denied. Beelzebub simply snapped a plain, black ring around the base of his penis and leaned back.

“What… are these?” Lucilius asked.

“Some devices I commissioned.”

The thing inside of him was shifting, he suddenly realized. He could feel it expanding outward, pressing against his inner walls. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but he felt… filled. When he was able to tear his mind away from the distraction, Beelzebub was standing in front of him, looking down with a deep satisfaction in his eyes. For a moment, Lucilius could see himself as Beelzebub presumably saw him. Bound. Helpless. And yet craving more. If Beelzebub put the question to him in the right way, would he beg? Or would he be able to hold out?

“Don’t you have perverse tastes?” he said, once again driven to lash out.

“The time for that has passed, Lucilius,” Beelzebub said with a smile, and with a gesture of his hand, the torment started.

The ring trembled, and he felt a strange pressure against his groin. At the same time, the thing inside him plunged deeper, driving a strangled cry out of him as it spread him even further. Then the ring began to vibrate against him, and the thing retreated. He let out an explosive gasp as he shook, pleasure creeping out into his limbs as they stiffened. Each time the device inside of him moved it took a different path, as if searching for some specific angle, some precise path. And he knew what it was looking for, but he couldn’t resist it, had no way to fight, and as it struck a spot within him he felt everything tightening, reaching up towards orgasm… and failing.

That insidious pressure around the base of his shaft. Every time he approached the peak it threw him right back down. In between his futile attempts at climax he panted, struggling wildly against his bonds. He’d never been denied this thoroughly. Not even with Lucifer and his bizarrely non-functional organ. The suffering seemed to take ages, suspended there in a place where he could almost reach and yet couldn’t. And he moaned, and eventually howled, though he had mocked Beelzebub for the idea before. When it finally stopped it took him several seconds to realize it was over.

Beelzebub’s face was just inches from his when he lifted his drooping head.

“A moment,” he cautioned, when Lucilius opened his mouth to complain. “I will not accept demands. Admit that you cannot bear it, or play along. If you do not yield in one way or the other, I will you have you writhing until you beg for mercy. Is this clear?”

His throat ached with the need to say something, but he didn’t want to experience that torture again. He closed his mouth with a snap and simply nodded. It seemed like the safest course of action. His entire body still throbbed with the feeling of being denied, his sweat chilling his skin. If he could have put his own hands to his organ he would have done it, and he realized that he was twisting his wrists against the cuffs holding him in place with that very need. No. The word hung tantalizing before him, dangled there deliberately by Beelzebub. He could stop this at any time. But just as when he played with his beasts, stopping short of the destination would be a waste of the entire experiment. He’d been drawn in by this before. Didn’t he need to see where it led? If nothing else, to understand why he had let himself be placed in this situation in the first place?

Beelzebub leaned in close, making him draw back, but he hardly had enough room to escape. His friend’s lips pressed against his, a peculiar attempt at intimacy in the midst of something which had, to that point, seemed entirely physical. Again the thought crossed his mind that perhaps Beelzebub harbored some sort of deeper feelings towards him. Beelzebub’s tongue stroked his lips and he kept them tightly closed, only to feel the odd pressure against his groin as the other Astral’s devices once again came to life. It was a hint, and he reluctantly opened his mouth, admitting Beelzebub in. What he expected was some passionate crossing of tongues, but what he got was something small which landed on his tongue and dissolved with a fizz. Tiny pricks, more itchy than painful, seemed to spread outward from that point, crawling across his tongue and up the inside of his cheeks, creeping up to his palate and slightly down his throat. He jerked backward, forgetting entirely Beelzebub’s cautions, and frantically ran his tongue across the inside of his mouth. Whatever had been there was gone, leaving only a faint stinging sensation in its wake. All he heard was Beelzebub chuckling.

“What did you do?” he asked — or tried to ask. Nothing came out. He was mute. His mouth worked futilely as he tried to produce some sound, any sound. Even voiceless sounds which didn’t use his tongue were suppressed. The only noise he could make was that of his breathing.

“Does it not make it easier?” Beezlebub said, cupping Lucilius’ cheek with his palm. “This is a kindness. But I caution you to mind your glares as well. That suspicious look does not suit you.”

What he suspected was other motives. This seemed far too elaborate just to keep him silent. But without his voice, he couldn’t say “no”, any longer, unless…

Beelzebub’s fingers trailed down the side of his neck, consciously or unconsciously hesitating for a moment over his carotid artery. His pulse was pounding against his skin already, and Beelzebub must have felt that. But he continued after only the briefest pause and traced the line of the collar against Lucilius’ skin. “You still have options, Lucilius, if you cannot bear my rule.”

Lucilius let out a long burst of breath, the closest to a sigh he could come. Inside of him the device trembled, and he stiffened, wondering if he’d done something which had drawn Beelzebub’s promised punishment. But no. It quickly went still. Instead, Beelzebub began to slowly, carefully, run his hands over Lucilius’ skin.

At first the hands seemed headed for his groin, and he couldn’t entirely hold back the anticipation that this might finally be over. As enjoyable as it had been, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see how much further his friend wanted to take him. If Beelzebub considered it finished, then the experiment had reached its natural conclusion — it didn’t need to go any further. Lucilius wouldn’t have to regret that he’d cut it off before he’d experienced everything this strange interaction had to offer. And he wouldn’t need to think about the fact that a tiny little voice inside of him was wondering whether there was more pleasure to be mined out of this. That perhaps he might be interested in doing it again.

Again the device shifted, and he shuddered. The lines Beelzebub drew across his skin tingled and heat rose in the wake of his touch. But he didn’t actually go any further than the middle of Lucilius’ chest. Instead he brought his hands back up and delicately tweaked Lucilius’ nipples, sending a tiny shiver of pleasure through him before Beelzebub moved on. Lucilius shifted his weight uncomfortably on his knees. He couldn’t fight, but the urge to do something was unbearable. Just to be touched like this… Beelzebub’s fingers were inescapable. He’d call it impersonal, and the patient, thorough exploration certainly had aspects of that, but it was conducted with a deep attention to his reactions. When Beelzebub hit a spot he reacted to, the device inside of his rectum would move, or the ring around his penis would shiver, intensifying the response until he gasped with the amplified sensation. If he’d had his voice he’d be making completely undignified sounds. Every bit of his focus was fixated on the feeling of Beelzebub’s touch on his skin and the stimulation which accompanied it.

When Beelzebub dipped the tip of a finger inside of his anus, he suddenly recognized what was being done to him. It wasn’t exactly… obviously this had a far different intent… but this was very close to the systems check performed on a newly constructed beast. The inspection of all parts, verifying that they behaved correctly when stimulated or operated, that there were no visible defects…

Humiliation flooded him. This was as if… as if he was _Lucifer_. How dare Beelzebub treat him like this… like what he’d been denied when Lucifer had proved to be defective? He struggled, but it was only the slightest of motions, not enough to make any change in his situation. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but as Beelzebub’s finger slid deep inside of him, it felt far more intimate than anything that had been done to him to that point. The device shifted as the tip of the finger reached it, lightly pressing against his inner wall and sending a shock of pleasure through him.

Beelzebub’s other hand reached around and cupped his testicles, gently massaging them. He panted openly, unable to stop himself. Once again he could feel the muscles in his body tensing as heat coursed through every inch of him. All it would take was one stroke… just one simple stroke… delivered in just the right way…

“Not yet,” his friend murmured in his ear, as the pressure damped down on him hard. His mouth worked as he tried to protest, but nothing came out. Beelzebub’s hand moved a few inches to catch a drop of liquid from the tip of his penis and slowly drew it down the length of the shaft. It was exactly what he had wanted, but useless. All it did was put him within reach of an orgasm which he couldn’t grasp. He shook his head, silently, desperately. “I intend to use you first.”

And just like that, it was all gone. The finger on his shaft. The finger inside of him. Dimly he could hear Beelzebub getting to his feet. It seemed like such a small thing compared to the raw need which consumed him. If only Lucifer had felt this. If he’d been able to…

Suddenly Beelzebub was in front of him. Lucilius’ attention must have wandered, for his friend was entirely naked, his robes discarded sometime between when Lucilius had heard him standing and that moment. A hair of resentment crossed his mind, for Beelzebub’s toned, bronzed muscles showed that he spent plenty of time active and outside. Fine for someone who wasn’t devoted to his research, but… But what captured his focus more than anything else was Beelzebub’s penis, erect and slightly reddish with the blood which filled it. His mind flew back to his casually thrown accusations of perversion, and Beelzebub’s reaction. It was clear that he enjoyed doing this. But, well, Lucilius had his own interests.

Something pressed against his palate, and Lucilius shook his head, disoriented. He pressed his teeth tightly together, but it was as if some physical object that his tongue couldn’t touch was filling his mouth, expanding, forcing his jaw open. Any attempt to stop it was futile. He shook his head again, but it made no difference. His teeth parted, his lips spreading wide, and Beelzebub stepped in closer, taking his shaft in his hand and holding it right before Lucilius’ mouth. A faint musky scent filled Lucilius’ nostrils. This must be what Beelzebub had meant about using him. As the head slid into his mouth, a drop of liquid fell onto his tongue. Salty and faintly sour. He tried to rear his head back, but Beelzebub placed his palms on Lucilius’ cheeks, his fingers stretching around the back of the skull to hold him in place. Every motion was slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to rush; Lucilius couldn’t stop him.

As Beelzebub filled his mouth, the device slowly began to rock inside of him. He exhaled sharply, and Beelzebub sighed. “Use your tongue.”

No, he thought, but his tongue pressed against the bottom of Beelzebub’s shaft, inordinately surprised by the softness of the skin. Beelzebub gasped, a shiver going through him as Lucilius ran his tongue along the length. It was difficult, his jaw aching slightly from the size of it. Trying to move his tongue only made the ache worse. As Beelzebub began to slowly thrust and withdraw, thrust and withdraw, and the motion of the device matched his movements, that ache fell away. It was just enough stimulation to keep him on the edge, without reaching the point of being painful. Each thrust went deeper, and he moved slightly as Beelzebub bumped the back of his throat, giving him a path to go further. At first he tensed when it went past his tongue and he found he couldn’t breathe, but he could get enough air, as long as he worked with the thrusts and not against them.

The world closed to the handful of sensations he was able to grasp. Without being able to make noise himself, the only sound which filled his ears was the wet noises as Beelzebub thrust and retreated and Lucilius tried to employ his tongue, and the soft groaning when Beelzebub reached the apex, pressing deep into his throat. The waves of pleasure, rising up to just before the true peak before fading, dimming as the device kept him under control. His thoughts dispersed like blood in water.

Empty, obedient blue eyes… and soft, beautiful wings… his mouth spread wide…

Beelzebub jerked against him, his fingers tightening around Lucilius’ head. Caught suspended in a vision of a different place, time, reality, at first he wasn’t sure what had happened. But as Beelzebub withdrew, drawing a line of sticky liquid over his tongue, and he tasted the salt, he caught on. His throat felt a little raw, and his breathing was heavy as he tried to catch his breath. The force which had kept his mouth open was gone, and he ran his tongue over his dry lips.

Beelzebub’s hands ran up the outside of his arms, then settled lightly on the cuffs holding him still. His friend’s motions were slow and deliberate, but Lucilius could sense the shakiness in them. Still, his muscles tensed and when he let the cuffs free of the air and each other, he caught Lucilius’ wrists and let him down to the ground carefully. His shoulders ached, and his knees, smoldering pain which Lucilius knew would flare tomorrow. But for now, the release was a relief.

If only it had been accompanied by another form of release. As Beelzebub let go of his hands and walked over to the bed, Lucilius stared after him, stunned and frustrated. It wasn’t fair to put him through all of this… to treat him in such an undignified fashion, and then not even have the courtesy to finish him. He moved his hand from where it rested on his thigh. He wasn’t restrained any longer. Why couldn’t he simply…?

“No,” Beelzebub said from where he sat on the bed, even as Lucilius remembered what the subtle hum from the ring around his organ meant. He could touch himself as much as he’d like and all he’d be doing was providing a show. “Come here,” Beelzebub ordered, snapping his fingers.

Lucilius glared at him, and Beelzebub smiled and shook his head. The device pushed hard against his inner wall and Lucilius threw his head back, crying out silently as he was forced to the edge once again. The pressure eased, and he dimly heard Beelzebub snap his fingers again. But just moments later, the device moved again, accompanied by a sharp buzz from the ring around his penis. Another pause, and he realized that Beelzebub wouldn’t stop until he moved. Maybe he wouldn’t stop until Lucilius reached him. Gritting his teeth, he placed a hand on the floor. The moment of peace stretched as he got up on his hands and knees, preparing to go to his feet. As soon as his hands left the floor and he began to stand, another shock of pleasure forced him back down.

I might kill you when you let me free, my friend, Lucilius thought, distantly, as he began to crawl. The memory of another defiant look crossed his mind as he climbed up onto the bed and towards Beelzebub’s outstretched hand, his palm up, and his fingers spread.

“Would you like to beg a favor of me, Lucilius?”

Thoughts of blood and violence filled him as he lowered his head and licked the tip of one of Beelzebub’s fingers. Beelzebub lightly stroked his hair and then sat up, pulling Lucilius forward and into his lap. He guided him to turn over so his back was cradled against Beelzebub’s chest. The curled position pressed his inner walls against the device inside of him, and he gasped. Beelzebub took his hands, bringing them up so the forearms were folded against the biceps, hands next to the shoulders, palm out, then lightly touched the cuffs, fixing them in place. “Bring your knees up and spread wide for me,” he whispered in Lucilius’ ear. “I will not do everything for you.”

A memory of brownish red eyes eyes, open wide with fear. As Lucilius did as he was told, his muscles straining, he felt Beelzebub’s penis stir against his back once more. Another touch on the cuffs and he was again helpless, this time splayed wide open as if he was begging with his body. Perhaps it was more true than he wanted to admit. When Beelzebub’s fingers teased the tip of his cock, he moaned.

The sound of his own voice caught him off guard. But when he tried to actually speak, the words were muddied. His second attempt ended in a groan as Beelzebub closed his hand around his penis and began to stroke him, and he felt some inner tension ease, replaced by something more primal. Finally. Finally.

A hand pressed lightly against his throat, the fingers tracing along the edge of the collar. A reminder that it was there. A reminder that he was allowing this exchange. The thought of escaping the situation crossed his mind, but it was so quickly dismissed now that he was finally getting what he wanted. Denied so many times, he could feel the pressure holding him back easing as he rose once more. When Beelzebub’s palm touched his cheek, he pressed his face against it. The chuckle from behind him sent a chill up his spine, but it was quickly blown away by the trembling as his muscles tensed. He struggled wildly against the cuffs holding him in place as he realized the device inside of him was moving once more, slowly, inexorably withdrawing. It felt different, thicker and fuller in places, thin in others. He was panting, interspersed with little cries. There was nothing left but what he was experiencing in that moment.

As he reached the peak, the world seemed to disappear as the orgasm blasted through every inch of his body and sent his thoughts flying. He hovered there for a moment, savoring it. Then he felt the device pop out of inside of him and he jerked as he was thrown up once against into the heights. His own voice echoed in his ears, reasonless, beast-like howling. It couldn’t possibly be him. But in the wake of the realization that it was, there came another pop and his mind scattered once again. It was almost unbearable as it happened once, twice more, but the overwhelming intensity of it was what satisfied him. When he finally came down it was to a body weak and sweaty, spattered with his own ejaculate, Beelzebub’s hand just leaving his penis. His arms lay still at his side, his legs sprawled out across the bed.

Undignified. But could he move? No.

Beelzebub laid him on his side on the bed, and he dug his fingers into the mattress with all the strength he could muster, which wasn’t much. The collar relaxed and slid free from his neck, and the final bit of tension in him went out. He might have trusted Beelzebub enough to accept his toy, but he didn’t particularly want to wear it any longer than necessary. He closed his eyes as Beelzebub removed the cuffs from him. The ring… somewhere in the middle of everything, the ring seemed to have disappeared. Either it had been removed while he’d been distracted, or he was more out of it than he thought. And he knew what had happened with the device. Even the thought of that made him shiver with remembered ecstasy.

“Satisfied?” Beelzebub asked, with a hint of humor in his voice.

It took a moment to gather his breath enough to respond. His throat felt slightly raw. “If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you,” Lucilius replied.

Beelzebub got up from the bed, and Lucilius heard his footsteps retreat in the direction of the bathroom. “Of course. We needn’t discuss it again, unless you crave more.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This was simply an… experiment.” Though he wasn’t entirely sure of himself as he said it.

There was an odd little pause as if Beelzebub was considering a response, but then he simply said, “Use the bed if you wish. Nap, if you like.” The sound of running water came from the bathroom.

What Lucilius wanted was to be clean. He wanted to be clothed. But the lassitude in his limbs was overwhelming, and his eyelids were drooping even as he tried to put his mind back in order. He managed to find enough strength to grab for the blanket and somehow get it over his lower half, at least. It would be far too much work to get it the rest of the way, so he left it where it had fallen. “Perhaps I will.” With that murmur he was only half-sure he’d actually given voice to, he let himself collapse into the mattress and drift off to sleep.


	5. Replication

“Cilius! Feeling all hot and bothered? Wanna play?” Belial said as he entered the room, without even bothering to knock first.

Lucilius sighed, carefully tapping the papers on his desk into a neat stack and setting it aside. He’d done his best, but there were some things he just couldn’t seem to train out of the angel. And it was almost tolerable behavior, given that Belial was responding to Lucilius’ summons. Turning in his chair, his body lit up with aches from his treatment at Beelzebub’s hands just yesterday, and he struggled to hold his wince back. The last thing he needed was for Belial to catch on to the source of his discomfort. Better that he think it was a result of Lucilius’ anger.

“Get over here and kneel,” he said, picking up his staff from where it had been sitting next to the table and tapping the floor in front of his chair. “Wings.”

For a moment, Belial’s eyebrows drew together, as he seemed to sense that this wasn’t intended to be a fun visit. But then his smile went sly. “You seem a bit out of sorts. Need to let off a bit of steam?”

This time, when Lucilius drove the bottom of the staff into the floor, it was with a sharp crack. It was hard to retain his composure. Belial was trying to distract him. He would not let himself be distracted.

Belial sighed, crossing the space between them and going down on his knees and summoning his wings in a smooth motion. His wings spread wide, but behind him, out of the way. The pose he struck was not the innocent indication of servility of a servant facing an unhappy master, but the spread legs and coy looks of a prostitute begging favors. Lucilius shook his head as it reminded him of things he would have rather stayed in the past. He slid the staff around the back of Belial’s neck and took it in his other hand, jerking the stick forward so Belial was forced to bend over, exposing his back. Then he leaned forward, supporting himself with the staff and placing one hand right over the core access point. Belial’s muscles tensed under his fingers, responding to the implicit threat.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been playing with my assistants, Belial.”

The angel’s voice was bewildered. “Are you upset, Cilius?”

“Yes. Don’t touch them without my permission. Not my assistants — not the other angels, either.” Lucilius could hear the anger rising in his voice even as he spoke. It surprised him in its intensity. The last thing he cared about was the assistants — they could all fall into the Crimson Horizon for all he cared. And yet… how dare Belial rut with them. And how dare they touch his creations with such familiarity? “I won’t tolerate independent action from you.”

“It was nothing more than a bit of—”

Rising out of the chair, he put all of his weight down on the staff, forcing Belial’s forehead all the way to the ground. He went down on one knee, and leaned forward so he was looking down on the back of Belial’s head. “A bit of what?” he snapped.

“—distraction.” Belial sounded breathless. “Is this jeal—”

Lucilius dipped his fingers into Belial’s back, letting his fingernails trail over the surface of the angel’s core. Belial’s voice broke as the unpleasant sensation caught him half-way through his excuses, and his back arched, trying to escape Lucilius’ hand. The wings jerked, fluttered. Waiting until he was certain he had the angel’s attention, Lucilius said, “No independent action. Do you understand me?”

“Getting ordered around by you makes me so hard—” Belial began, but when Lucilius grasped his core for real, a hint of desperation came into his voice. “I understand, Lucilius.”

It took so much effort to actually make the angel engage seriously. With a sigh, Lucilius lifted the staff from the back of Belial’s neck and sat back down heavily in his chair. The ache in his lower back made him wince this time, but he didn’t think the angel had noticed. Belial got up with a hint of hesitation, as if he was worried Lucilius was going to push him back down, placing his hands on his knees and sitting up slightly straighter. His wings settled neatly behind him. It showed a willingness to listen. Finally.

Belial licked his lips. “Can I ask a question?”

“If you’re not doing it to irritate me, you may.” He considered specifying the consequences — likely either rendering Belial temporarily impotent or simply severing all of his limbs and leaving him in a spare lab — but the very specificity was more likely to cause bad behavior than to dissuade it.

“Who are you _ordering_ me to roll, then?”

His jaw locked. In his own, twisted way, the angel had managed to jump to the point before Lucilius had led him there. Having it proposed to him instead of it being a direct result of his own orders wasn’t to his taste, but nothing had occurred to change his plans. It simply fanned his anger back to life. His fingers ached for his scalpel. He barely held the rage within as he silently raised his eyebrows, and Belial brought up his hands defensively. But after a few moments, Lucilius relented. “One of the assistants. A girl, short brown hair, black eyes.”

“Oh, Elly?”

Lucilius frowned. “Elly? Was that her name?” It didn’t sound right, but he couldn’t be certain. They all blurred together, coming and going as they came to him for additional training or left to start their own independent research. It hadn’t been her lack of results which had drawn his ire, but the fact she had argued a useless point for several minutes with him in the middle of an experiment, nearly wasting all the time he had put into it. Interesting, though, that he couldn’t recall seeing any research proposals from an ‘Elly’. Perhaps Belial’s intervention was unnecessary, then. If she was unable to even present an idea for consideration, he could simply dismiss her for lack of results.

“Eligos. You’re telling me you don’t even remember her name?” Belial’s eyes were wide with faked surprise. However, at Lucilius’ glare he sat back on his heels again. “Well, if she’s the one, then… hmm…” His mouth curved in a sly smile. “What can I do to her? ‘No independent action’, right?”

Eligos — yes, now he remembered her proposals. ‘Elly’ was another of Belial’s ridiculous nicknames. She was just as irritating on paper as she was in person, a perfect test of the first idea Beelzebub had given him. “I don’t particularly care about the details. Make sure someone notices. The more humiliating the situation they find you in, the better. That part, I leave to your imagination.”

His objections to her research were one thing; the Council had already displayed complete disinterest in his assessment of the research assistants. But caught being rutted by a primal? No Astral could live down the shame of it. Her lack of judgment would be revealed in a way the Council couldn’t dismiss, and he’d finally be rid of her. If this test was successful, he could employ the tactic selectively going forward. Eventually the Council might catch on to his methods, but he suspected they would start to send him dullards who were too dense to be tempted. Fine by him. Spare pairs of hands were useful, but he didn’t need tools which couldn’t be controlled.

“Okay,” Belial said, casually. He leaned forward, peeking up at Lucilius from below “Are you sure you don’t want a bit of fun before I go?”

“Satisfy yourself with her.” Though the angel seemed insatiable, Lucilius thought as he flicked his fingers. “Get out.”

He turned back to his papers instead of watching Belial leave, though he listened carefully to ensure the angel did as he was told. When Belial was gone, however, Lucilius pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and ran his eyes over the blank canvas, considering.

His experience with Beelzebub, as reluctant as he was to examine it too closely, had given him several ideas. He sighed, shaking his head. It was… frustrating to think that he had let himself go so far astray. Failure was a natural part of experimentation, and it was too easy to forget the possibility of failure when one’s experiments tended to work out as one expected them to. He had let himself grow so accustomed to a clear path that a tiny bump in the road had seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. Embarrassing to think he had let himself be derailed over such a tiny problem. However, now his mind was clear.

There was no beast which could not be broken. Lucifer would not be an exception.

Leaning over the sheet, Lucilius began to put his ideas down on paper.


End file.
